If The Blazer Fits
by FlyYouFools
Summary: Emma decides to dress up like Regina for a Halloween party at The Rabbit Hole. No big deal, it's not like Regina's going to be there…right? Emma's costume choice sets their interactions on a new path. Eventual SQ.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Set S2, right after Queen of Hearts. I got the idea for this when thinking about my kids' proposed Halloween costumes and how funny it would be to dress a 7-year-old up as Regina the mayor (don't worry, she's going as Hermione). Then I thought, "Wait, Emma sometimes acts like a 7-year-old…" and hilarity ensues. This will be SQ by the end. Thanks for Alaska829Snow for the beta and general awesomeness. I own nothing but the knowledge that SQ fandom writes rings around the OUAT writing staff.**

_This is such a bad idea,_ Emma thought as she peered into her bedroom mirror and made the last adjustments on her wig.

Casting a final critical eye, the Sheriff appraised herself: layered, shoulder-length raven hair, black blazer, tight black pencil shirt, crisp white Oxford shirt - straining at the third button - and four-inch black stilettos.

Her makeup was pronounced and vivid, two adjectives never associated with the face of Emma Swan. Smooth powder foundation set the scene with defined light-pink blush hugging her cheekbones. Heavy black eyeliner, mascara and deep rose-red lipstick with maroon liner provided stark definition. The pièce de résistance – brown contacts picked up at a Halloween outlet two towns over.

"Well, well, well," a voice innocently drawled behind her, "if it isn't Madame Mayor."

Emma spun around, eyes narrowed in suspicion and anger to provide the full effect.

Ruby gaped, then howled with laughter. "That is _fucking_ perfect!"

"You think so?" Emma looked so similar to Regina, it was eerie to hear the blonde's voice come out of the ex-Mayor's mouth.

"I know so. Your mom's gonna _die_."

Emma shut off her bedroom light and headed downstairs, Ruby right behind.

"Well, I hope not, although that would be right in line with the costume."

Emma crossed the room, heading to the kitchen island to grab her purse – another costume accessory. She had to borrow it from Snow, Emma certainly didn't have one. ("Why do you need my black purse?" Snow asked suspiciously. "You'll see." "That's what I'm afraid of.")

"Are you sure it's not too much?"

"What? It's the funniest thing I've seen in forever."

"I don't know." The Savior shrugged. "I just…I mean, she _is_ Henry's mother. It's not kicking her when she's down, is it?"

"Do you think Regina ever worried about kicking someone when they were down?"

Emma nodded her head in agreement, feeling slightly less guilty. "Good point."

"Plus, it's not like she's going to see it, she won't be there. I guarantee it, you'll be the hit of the party."

When Ruby floated the idea of a Halloween party three weeks earlier, Emma jumped on board. After the unwanted adventures in the Enchanted Forrest, which fell right on the heels of the curse breaking and the ensuing general chaos, everyone needed a good reason to celebrate. And by "celebrate", Ruby meant get drunk and let loose, two things to which Emma had no objection and could solidly support. It had been such a long time since she had done either.

The party was the talk of the town since it was decided and Emma spent a good two weeks trying to find the perfect costume. Nothing enticed her, until one evening when she dropped Henry off at Regina's for a visit and found the former mayor in a mood. Emma had no idea what caused it, only that at the moment she was the recipient of all of Regina's ill will and vitriol.

Tired of fighting, especially since she didn't know what Regina was so wound up about, Emma let the woman vent. She simply stood there, mind wandering, as the brunette ranted and raved.

Emma looked contrite and added an "Um hmm" here and an "OK" there, studying Henry's mother and silently wondering when she could leave. She took in the petite woman, still resplendent in her mayoral finery despite the fact she was essentially deposed. Blazer. Pencil skirt. White blouse. Heels.

The image hit her brain so hard she nearly reared her head back. _Now _that's_ a costume._

"OK," she said genially, taking her leave regardless of whether the woman was finished. "I gotta go. I have shopping to do."

Emma snapped out of her reverie, turned and looked at her friend. She had been so preoccupied with her costume, she didn't get a good look at Ruby's.

"Playing against type?" the blonde asked, confusion on her face.

The long, leggy woman stood in front of her every inch…Mother Superior? Ruby wore a royal blue cloak, buttoned at the neck and covering her completely to the calves. Tan pantyhose encased her legs and sensible, black, old-lady loafers completed the sedate ensemble. Her sleek, jet-black locks was swept into a conservative up-do.

"Well, I am a _mother_," she smirked. "And quite superior."

With a flourish, she flipped the cape back over her shoulders to reveal the rest of her outfit: The nun's trademark Peter Pan collar hugged her neck, topping a skin-tight white halter top that ended just below her generous chest. The smooth, taut planes of Ruby's abs gave way to the shortest, tightest pair of white hot pants Emma had ever seen.

"Slutty Mother Superior? Seriously?" Emma laughed. "Blue probably has the nuns in chapel right now lighting candles and praying for your sinful soul."

"Thank the gods," she replied, covering herself in the cloak once again. "I need all the help I can get."

Emma pushed off the kitchen island and headed for the front door to leave.

"This is such a bad idea," she said, unsure if she was reminding herself, asking her friend or both. It _was_ fun in a wicked way, pretending to be Regina for a night, but there was still that underpinning of dread. Was it guilt? She had no idea, regardless, she remembered what Ruby said - it wasn't like her doppelganger was going to be there. No one had invited the former Evil Queen to the party, and Emma knew even if they did she certainly would never show up.

"That only means one thing," Ruby noted as she walked out the door. "It's such a bad idea, it's actually good."

XXXX

Snow walked into The Rabbit Hole on David's arm with a broad smile_._

The already-dark bar seemed even gloomier, decorated for the party with lit pumpkins (fire laws be damned), cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and a black light here and there.

Granted, most of the attendees had actually seen real witches, werewolves, spirits and the like, so the decorations were more cute than intimidating. But it was fun. _And,_ Snow mused, _this town sorely needs some fun._

Word about the party spread quickly among the town's adults; all except for one. Despite the fact that she recently saved Snow and Emma from their former land – at great danger to herself – Regina was still persona non grata everywhere she went. Emma had tried to include her at the impromptu Welcome Back party at Granny's but it backfired and was awkward for all parties, to say the least.

Instead of forcing the issue of peaceful coexistence, Emma uncharacteristically decided to let it develop in its own time. She would treat the reforming Regina with respect and decency (except for tonight, of course) and hoped the others would eventually follow suit.

So while every adult in Storybrooke was tearing it up at the bar tonight, the former Evil Queen was ensconced in her mansion, none the wiser, happily welcoming her son for an overnight visit.

_What she doesn't know won't hurt her_, Snow realized. _Or, more importantly, my family._

Snow followed David to the bar for a drink, but before she reached it she felt a presence at her back.

"Just where do you think _you're_ going, Miss Blanchard?" a low alto voice hissed smoothly in her ear.

Although Snow hadn't been addressed as such in months, the tone, tenor and epithet meant only one person. A chill instinctively ran up the brunette's spine, the tiny hairs on her neck standing at attention. Her stomach dropped as she slowly turned and found Regina right behind her, hands on her hips, scowling. _Wait, something's not…_

"Emma?"

The look on Snow's face was classic. The royal bad-ass archer had been instantaneously replaced by horrified, meek, virginal Mary Margaret. Emma wished she had a camera, but then quickly felt guilty that she so terrified her mother she broke character and started howling with laughter.

"Em…Emma? EMMA!" Snow held her hand over her heart in a failed attempt to calm the hammering. "How could you? That is _not_ funny!"

"Hey…" she explained defensively, wiping tears out of her eyes, "…costumes are supposed to be scary. Oh, shit, my makeup."

"Well, this is just…excessive, honey." The woman narrowed her gaze as she examined her daughter. "Gods, you look so much like her. Are you trying to kill me?"

Emma smirked and shrugged her shoulders. "Comes with the costume."

Ruby sauntered out of the shadows, hooting so hard she actually snorted. "Jesus, Snow. That was classic. You looked like you were going to wet your pants." The schoolteacher eyed her friend accusingly.

"Were you in on this?" Ruby held up her hands, palms out. "I knew about it, but your daughter dreamt it up. You're more to blame than me, _you_ lent her the purse."

"Don't remind me."

Charming walked up dressed as Paul Bunyon, a fake beard on his face, two mugs of punch in his hand and a question on his lips. "Snow, have you seen…"

He pulled up quick at the sight of the ex-mayor, the drinks sloshing over the sides of the steins. He opened his mouth to speak, baffled as to why Regina was here and grinning at his wife. Charming instinctively reached across his body only to find his hip - no sword. "What's the mean—"

"Hey, David."

The prince's mouth opened as he heard his daughter's voice and the realization slowly washed over him. "That's…that's just _wrong_," he noted, clearly displeased.

"Sorry. I thought it was pretty funny." _Maybe this costume_ was _a bad idea._

David walked up alongside Snow, handing her a drink. He placed an arm around her shoulder, rubbing hers slowly in reassurance.

Emma eyed her parents sincerely. "I'm sorry, you guys," she apologized again, reaching for Snow's hand. The sentiment lost some of its effectiveness coming from a person dressed as someone who repeatedly tried to kill them. "If I knew it would freak you out so much, I would have picked something else."

"Speaking of which," Ruby turned to Snow, cocking her head, "what are you supposed to be?"

The brunette smiled in self-satisfaction, clad in yellow rubber head to toe: suspenders, pants, jacket and giant hat.

"A lobsterman!" she chirped.

"That's pretty geeky, Snow, even for you."

"Me? You're dressed as Mother Superior."

Ruby's lips parted in a wolfish grin as she flung back her cloak with a cackle.

Charming's eyes bugged out and a faint, "Whoa" escaped his lips.

Snow wheezed, eyebrows close to her hairline. "No offense – and I love you both - but I can't handle one more second staring at my daughter dressed as Regina and Ruby an inch away from public indecency."

Snow grabbed her husband's arm, shaking her head at the pair as they left to mingle. "We'll see you later."

"My first Halloween with my parents and I've horrified them," Emma observed sheepishly as she watched the couple walk away.

"Mission accomplished, I'd say." Ruby adjusted her cloak and threaded her arm through Emma's. "Now, let's get a drink."

The women walked up to the bar to find Leroy dispensing punch out of a black cauldron, dry ice wafting menacingly.

"Well, this is rich," Emma sneered in her best Regina impression. "The town drunk ladling out alcohol."

Leroy looked up from the cauldron, his face impassive. "Fuck you, you frigid bitch." He filled two tankards and when he looked up, his face was split into a grin. "Man, I have always wanted to say that."

"You're welcome," Emma replied lightly.

"Here you go, sister." Leroy was sporting a black T-shirt that proclaimed "COSTUME" in white block letters as he handed Emma a large mug, then turned to Ruby with a leer, her drink and a nod of his head. "Mother."

The wolf raised an eyebrow and opened her cape.

Leroy whistled low and slow in appreciation. "I'll convert for you, anytime."

Ruby sipped her drink with a satisfied "Mmmmmm" then sauntered off to tend to her wayward flock. Emma followed suit with a big pull off the mug, only to find herself immediately gasping and coughing.

"Jesus Christ, Leroy! What _is_ this?"

"They call it Dutchman," he explained, as if she asked the sum of 2 + 2. "Legend has it it's the cure for all your troubles. But over here…" his voice dropped to a rumbling whisper, "they also use it to strip paint down at the docks."

"What's in it?" Emma grimaced, the memory of chimera bubbling to the surface as she peered into the glass.

"Mostly grain alcohol. Some fruit punch. And other stuff, but it's really the first two that do the job."

"What job? Causing blindness?"

Leroy gave her a thoughtful stare. "Don't rule it out. This drink is, like, a-hundred-and-ninety proof."

Emma took another sip, hoping it got better. "Looks like it stunts your growth, too."

"Ha, ha, sunshine. Drink up." He paused for a second, his grey eyes crinkling at the corners. "You deserve it."

_I do,_ Emma realized. So, she did.

XXXX

Two large mugs of Dutchman later, Emma had few coherent thoughts except for one, _This was such a great idea._

Role-playing with Leroy was so much fun, she took her traveling one-woman bitch-queen act around the bar, greeting revelers in pure, unadulterated Mayor Mills fashion, leveling icy glares and cutting remarks at every person she saw.

Emma insulted, jeered and taunted her way from group to group. She narrowed her eyes and lifted her top lip in disgust at each person, cutting all to the quick just as Regina would. Emma was eerily good at it, perhaps from being on the business end of so much of the woman's venom herself.

"Regina" would slander the subject, who would then respond in an alarmingly-thorough array of profanity and vulgar suggestions. Then both ex-Mayor and citizen would laugh uproariously, followed by a clap on the shoulder, a job well done.

Emma had just finished blasting Happy as a "vertically-challenged moronic imbecile" when she was jostled from behind. She wheeled around to find Archie.

"You idiotic bug," she spat slowly. "Watch where you are going or I will crush you beneath my heel like the pathetic insect you are."

"Oh, uh…hi, um, Emma?"

"Really?" The blonde's voice had returned to normal. "That's all you've got?"

"Well, I'm not going to yell at you, if that's what you want."

Emma's head cocked in confusion as she took in a glasses-less Archie sporting a white beard, wearing a three-piece suit and holding a cigar. "Who are you supposed to be, one of the cough-drop guys?"

"Who? No, I'm Freud."

"Huh. So, you don't want to yell at me? Tell me off?"

"Um, no," he reached to adjust his glasses out of habit, only to realize they weren't there. "I've made my peace with the past…and Regina."

"It's OK. We're all having fun." Emma brandished a big grin and waved her stein of Dutchman. It was true, everyone was having a grand time. The bar was packed, everyone was drinking, dancing and laughing – normal, healthy pursuits for this tiny, abnormal town.

"Everyone's having their say without getting fireball-pelted to Hell." She paused for a moment, then her face lit up. "Hey, it's like free therapy. I'm gonna put you out of a job." She giggled as she gave Archie a friendly punch on the shoulder, which caused her to stagger sideways, her balance falling victim to the potent drink.

The therapist reached for Emma's blazer-clad arm to steady her. "I wouldn't hang your shingle just yet," he said cautiously. "And take it easy on the punch, it's quite potent."

Emma raised the tankard to her lips and her eyebrows in agreement as she turned to find her next victim, only to discover her mug was empty. She found herself in a happy, drunken haze, in which everything was funny, everyone was a friend and nothing hurt. It would tomorrow, for sure. But now, right now, everything was wonderful and carefree, and Emma did not want it to end.

"This will not do!" she yelled imperiously as she stalked over to the bar for a refill. "Leroy, you cretinous troll, fetch me another drink."

The miner was nowhere to be found, so Emma climbed atop the bar to look for him in the crowd. When the party-goers got a gander at their ex-Mayor high above them, they began to heckle, boo and yell - all with huge smiles on their faces. Everyone, that is, except for Snow White, who was desperate to get her daughter off the bar.

She was worried the drunk woman was going to kill herself, standing on a wet bar in four-inch heels. Truth be told, a sober Emma wasn't so great with heels of any height on level, bare pavement. And to add insult to potential injury, Snow was quickly turning red at the filthy suggestions her friends were hurling at her only child, even though in jest.

"Emma. Emma, get down! You're going to hurt yourself."

Emma looked down at her tiny mother - encased in yellow rubber, her face so earnest beneath a gigantic fisherman's hat - and erupted in laughter. She would have toppled off had Leroy not returned just in time to grab her by the calves and steady her. The Savior slowly got back in character, curling her lip in a cruel smile.

"How dare you try to tell me what to do, Snow White! You've ruined my life long enough!"

The crowd exploded with a roar, egging her on further.

Emma slowly gazed across the party, shooting daggers and thundering a warning to the drunken, happy masses.

"You pathetic peasants disgust me. Mark my words, I shall destroy your happiness as if it is the last thing I do."

The horde gasped as one and fell silent.

Emma was stunned as she glanced around the room filled with wide eyes, shuffling bodies and indistinct murmuring. Her booze-soaked, foggy brain registered one thought: _Jesus, I am good_.

"Did you idiots not hear me?" she asked acidly. "I shall destroy your happiness as if it is the last thing I do."

A low, even voice rang out near the front door. "Oh, they heard you Miss Swan."

Emma looked to pinpoint the location of the voice and saw Regina's cool stare come into focus. It was the last thing she saw before she toppled off the bar.

**TBC**

**Reviews greatly appreciated. And don't drink grain alcohol, it will mess you up hardcore (it really is 190-proof).**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: See, kids: Bad things happen if you drink to excess. But, as reviewer TurtlesCrossing pointed out, there is nothing wrong with dancing on tabletops with friends. A teeny, tiny nod to hunnyfresh's seminal SQ fic, Incoming Messages, is in this chapter. See if you can spot it. Standard disclaimers in the first chapter, but special thanks as always to the lovely and talented Alaska829Snow for the beta.**

_This is such a bad idea_, Archie thought as he drove to Regina's house, his car full of women displaying varying degrees of sobriety.

"Emma, please," Snow pleaded, half drunk and fully desperate to get her daughter to listen to reason and abandon her plan.

"I have to go apologize," she slurred. Whether she was dizzier from her dive off the bar or the large amount of Dutchman was anyone's guess. The blonde leaned her head against her mother in the backseat, an ice pack lodged between Snow's shoulder and the back of Emma's head.

Ruby turned around from the front and chimed in. "She's right. This is suicide. Regina was steaming when she left with David, do you think she'll be any happier if you wake her up in the middle of the night? At least friggin' change first."

Emma glanced down, realizing she had totally forgotten about her Mayor Mills costume, which was now missing its wig and blazer. Instead of looking like Maine's scariest, sexiest autocrat, the Sheriff looked like a businesswoman about to get admitted to 30-day rehab.

"Why did she go with David again?" Emma asked, confused.

Snow gasped. "Memory loss! That's one of the signs. Archie, take us to the hospital, please."

"Relax, woman," Ruby commanded. It was the sign of a truly bizarre night if the wild waitress was the voice of reason. "She's drunk, not brain damaged. And besides, her head barely hit the bar rail."

"Yeah, I'm not going to the hospital, I never want to see Whale again."

_Emma came to lying on the sticky, wooden floor of The Rabbit Hole, her head resting on her mother's thigh and a blindingly bright light blocking her field of vision. A mix of ammonia, stale beer and sickeningly sweet punch wafted under her nose, making her stomach roll dangerously. When the light withdrew and her eyes focused, the first sight she saw was Dr. Whale dressed as The Cat in the Hat._

"_What the hell?" Emma groaned, lurching backward, but stopping short as she winced, feeling the full effect of her tumble. "Ow. What happened?" Her eyes were wild as she tried to simultaneously focus and squint._

_Red snorted. "You fell off the bar when Regina came in."_

"_Oh, shit…that's right." A pang of guilt and regret immediately rocketed through her chest as she remembered the scene._

"_You went ass-over-teakettle backwards off the bar. Leroy caught you, but your head dinged the bar rail. You're lucky that little fucker is as strong as an ox."_

_Emma heard an indignant "Hey!" in the distance, along with conversation, laughter, music and clinking glasses. Despite the fact The Savior was unceremoniously splayed out on the floor with a minor head injury, the party continued unabated._

"_It could have been much worse," Whale noted. "You're lucky."_

_Emma closed her eyes, she couldn't look at him. In whiteface, whiskers and that freaky hat, he was even creepier than normal, something she previously had doubted was possible._

"_You were unconscious for about 5 minutes and you've got a decent egg on the back of your head, but you're not presenting any signs of a concussion. Take some aspirin, drink some water, get some sleep and sober up."_

"_And on that note," the doctor announced rising from his knees and leering at a woman dressed in a skin-tight nurse's uniform, "I have a conversation to finish."_

_Emma sat up slowly and leaned her back against the wall. "Where's Regina? Why was she here, anyway?"_

"_You forgot to send Henry's amoxicillin with him." Snow maneuvered next to her daughter, mirroring her position._

"_That's right." Emma sighed groggily. "The ear infection."_

_Snow smiled, pleased that her daughter remembered that much. "Henry forgot his keys at the apartment, so Regina came over here to get yours." _

"_How did she know I was here? I didn't tell her what I was doing tonight."_

"_Obviously," Ruby deadpanned. She bit her lip and unsuccessfully tried to hold back a grin. "Henry put a GPS locator app on your phone." _

"_What? That little shit! When?"_

"_Hey, he likes to know where you are. He did it after you got back from the Enchanted Forest."_

_Snow looked at her daughter pointedly. "I can't say that I blame him." _

"_Yeah, but it's my phone. What about privacy?"_

"_It _was_ private," Ruby laughed, "you didn't even know it was there."_

"_But you did?"_

_She snickered as she replaced Emma's ice pack with a fresh one. "Hey, the kid and I are friends. It's not his fault you don't know how to do anything other than dial. Your password is 1234 for Christ's sake. A toddler could load apps on your phone."_

"_Get me my phone," Emma demanded petulantly._

_Snow handed the woman her purse. She dug out her phone and found two missed calls and two texts from Regina from earlier that evening. Handing it to Ruby she ordered, "Fix it."_

_One finger swipe and five taps later, she gave it back. "There. You're incognito once more."_

"_So where's Regina?"_

"_Well, after you fell off the bar –" Ruby began giggling at the memory._

"_Seriously? Could you enjoy this a little less?"_

"_Sorry, it was so goddamn funny. Anyway, your father grabbed your keys and they left for your place so she could get Henry's meds."_

"_Did she say anything? Was she mad? Did she yell?"_

_Snow grimaced._

"_What do you think?" Red noted. "But she always looks pissed. She didn't say anything, yell or fireball your ass. You fell, Snow ran to you. Regina found your father, and they left with your keys."_

_Emma moaned and closed her eyes. "I gotta make this right."_

Emma was still lying, eyes closed, on her mother's shoulder when she felt Archie press on the breaks and stop outside what she assumed was 108 Mifflin Street.

"There's no lights on, Emma. C'mon, this can wait till tomorrow," Ruby urged.

"No, I have to make this right tonight."

"No, Emma." Snow tried to sound as stern as possible. "We're taking you home."

"No, _Mom_, I am going to apologize. Let me out."

"Fine, say you're sorry and then get back in here."

Emma groaned, slowly opened her eyes and leaned forward, removing the ice pack from her head.

"Listen, Regina's going to be ticked off enough to see me as it is, how will she react if she sees you three in the car waiting for me? She'd probably think it's a setup and I'm trying to prank her - _again_. Just leave me. I'll apologize, hopefully not get killed, and then call you for a ride. Or just walk back."

"Emma…" The woman followed her mother's eyes until they landed on her stiletto-clad feet.

"Right, I'll call you for a ride."

Snow sighed heavily and called for backup. "Archie?"

"Emma is a grown woman," he noted diplomatically. "I truly don't believe Regina would hurt her."

"I'm telling you," the blonde insisted. "She's changed. She's — " And then it hit her, the reason behind that doubt about her costume choice. Regina _was_ trying to change. She _was_ trying to become a better person. _She saved my life. And I betrayed her._

"What?" Ruby asked.

"Nothing, just let me out," she noted quietly. "Please."

Emma opened the car door and stepped onto the sidewalk, only to lean back in and address her mother, whose concern was written all over her face.

"She's not going to kill me. Yes, she's mad, but she won't hurt me. I'll call you guys for a ride home."

Emma closed the door and did her best to march up the walkway as soberly as possible.

Snow watched her daughter hobble away shakily, then leaned toward her friend in the front seat. "You didn't actually remove that app from her phone, right?"

The brunette chuckled. "Of course not, I just moved icons around. Not only is it still there, it's still on. Give me your phone and I'll set it up so you can track her, too."

"Ladies, just so you know, if asked I will deny I know any of this," Archie declared as she put the car in drive and pulled away.

"Whatever you say, Doc. Now, get us back to the party, the night's still young."

XXXX

Regina woke up with a start, her heart in her throat at the sound of the pounding on the door. As a royal or a civilian, middle-of-the-night surprise wake-up calls usually meant bad news. Peeking out the window she spied – oh, gods – Miss Swan bracing herself against a pillar.

A flare of anger rose in her chest as the banging resumed once more. Thank goodness the medication knocked Henry out soundly, it was one thing to scare her in the middle of the night, quite another inexcusable error to awaken her sick son.

The woman pulled on a robe and slippers, her outrage mounting with each step down the stairs and every step closer to the front door as she remembered the evening's events.

_Regina pulled up to The Rabbit Hole wishing she was anywhere else. It was a point of pride that she had never entered the establishment in its 29 years of existence. She wasn't a fan of excessive drinking and even though she didn't know exactly who was inside at the moment, she was pretty sure she wasn't an admirer of theirs, either._

_However, Henry was still fighting an ear infection, Miss Swan wasn't answering her phone and their son needed his medication, which thanks to Emma was currently locked in her apartment. Regina sighed, amazed that even when the blonde was trying to do something considerate, such as let Henry sleep over, she still managed to aggravate Regina, this time by forgetting the meds, failing to ensure Henry had his keys and refusing to answer her phone._

_When it came to the subject of Miss Swan it was, as of late, one step forward, two steps back._

_Regina pushed open the heavy door and was rocked by the transition from crisp, clean, fall evening into a building simmering with stale air, sweat, alcohol and body heat. Everyone in the crowd was standing still, directing their attention to the bar. "How dare you try to tell me what to do, Snow White! You've ruined my life long enough!"_

_She followed their gaze to see a surprisingly well-dressed woman perched atop it, threatening and shouting at the crowd._

"_You pathetic peasants disgust me. Mark my words, I shall destroy your happiness as if it is the last thing I do."_

_Wait, that woman looked like…_

_The crowd turned toward Regina one by one as they realized her presence. Gasps and murmurs filled the room, the revelers watching her, waiting for her next move. Humiliation and wrath burst in her chest, accompanied by the tell-tale tingle of magic at the ready. Just a gentle wave of her fingers could produce a fireball and a well-aimed toss would quickly end this party and teach Miss Swan – and the whole damn town – a much-needed lesson in humility._

_It was tempting, nearly irresistible. Magic so close and so strong she could practically taste it, still, after all these years. Yet Regina heard her mother's words ring unbidden in her mind._

"_Never reveal your true emotions, darling," she remembered Cora smoothly advising as they walked through the palace gardens one day. "There are always those out there who will use them against you."_

_Even though her mother was pure evil, Regina knew she was right. Royals rarely disclosed their true feelings in public, and even though Regina hadn't sat on a throne in nearly three decades, she still considered herself regal through and through._

_She refused to give the crowd the satisfaction. They expected her to rage? To throw fireballs? Then she would do the opposite. If an enemy expects you to go left, go right. And as far as Regina was concerned, everyone in this godforsaken hole was an enemy. _

_Except for Emma, at least she thought that was the case. After their talk outside the party at Granny's, Regina thought they understood each other better. Each woman was trying, truly trying, to set aside their concerns and trust the other._

_Emma ensured Regina got regular visits with Henry, even though others questioned the move. The former queen would never forget the day she walked down the corridor to the Sheriff's office and overheard Emma on the phone. "No, he's going to Regina's for dinner and that's final. She is his mother. Regina would never hurt him and she's trying hard to be better. I can see it. I believe in her."_

_The brunette's heart soared at the accidental eavesdropping. She was trying, and people – well, at least Emma – were noticing. Which is why it stung so fiercely when she walked into The Rabbit Hole and found her one ally in town drunkenly mocking her_. Look where all the effort - the hard work - got me_, she thought_. Degraded. Ridiculed in public. I saved their precious savior, their cherished Snow White.And yet it wasn't good enough,_ Regina realized bitterly_. It will never be good enough.

"_Did you idiots not hear me?" Emma's voice rang out acidly from across the room. "I shall destroy your happiness as if it is the last thing I do."_

"_Oh, they heard you Miss Swan."_

_Before Regina could decide what to do next, her doppelganger took herself out, tumbling backwards off the bar. A blur of yellow – was that Snow? – ran behind to help her, leaving Regina to find David and Ruby on the edge of the crowd._

"_Henry left his medication and his keys at the apartment," she coolly declared. "I need you to get your daughter's keys. Follow me there and let me in so I can retrieve it."_

_David nodded mutely, still processing the scene that just unfolded. He found Emma's purse near the bar, grabbed her keys and followed Regina back out into the pitch-black October night._

Swaying unsteadily on Regina's porch, Emma Swan had an epiphany. _This was such a bad idea._ The effects of the liquor and the adrenaline from the party, her fall and its aftermath were wearing off quickly. Her head was throbbing and her nerves were rising. She had put so much thought and effort into simply getting to Regina's front door, she didn't know what to say when the porch light blazed on and the door swung open.

"Regina, I—"

"_How dare you_," the brunette's eyes burned with outrage, her voice scathing. "Your brazenness, _your utter gall_, knows no bounds, does it? Mocking me in public, then waking me up in the middle of the night? For what, Miss Swan? Was there some aspect of your performance I missed?"

Emma opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out as the Savior was completely dumbfounded by the verbal assault. Yet one thought shoved its way to the front of her alcohol-soaked brain. _She looks so young_. Scrubbed clean of makeup, sleep-mussed hair and sporting a silk robe and slippers, Emma couldn't believe how non-threatening, how normal, how…cute the ex-Mayor looked. _Cute?_

"I —"

"You mocked me. You ridiculed me. And you expect me to allow you into _my_ home to assuage _your_ conscience? So _you_ can feel better? Think again, Miss Swan."

Regina moved to the edge of the doorway, leaning closer, her voice a harsh whisper.

"That's the problem. Everyone caters to you. It's all about you. You are a spoiled child. Regardless of what we actually do, it's always the same: You can never do anything wrong and I can never do anything right.

"I am Henry's mother. _He is my son_. Your behavior reflects poorly not only on yourself, but also on him. So if you don't think about yourself the next time you decide to put on a show for the drunks at the bar, at least think about him before you act like a total ass in public, Princess."

Emma's eyes widened at the onslaught and she pulled in a ragged breath.

"Now," Regina hissed with pure disdain. "Get off my porch."

The brunette slammed the door so hard, the thin windows on either side rattled with the impact. Emma was bracing herself against the pillar once more, weary from the confrontation, when the porch lights shut off, leaving her in the dark.

She slid down the pillar and sat on the brick step, her thin skirt doing little to protect her thighs from the freezing clay. Emma pulled out her phone and opened her contacts, her finger hovering over Archie's name as she had a thought.

Scrolling down, she pulled up Regina's number and hit the Message icon. _See, Ruby, I _can_ text_, she thought smugly.

**Give me 5 minutes. Please.**

Emma sat in the cold dark, listening to the wind rustle the remaining leaves on the giant maple that dominated the right side of the yard. She checked the clock, noting she sent the text 7 minutes earlier. _Three more_, she thought fighting off a shiver, _and I call Archie._

The blonde jumped with a start as she heard the door open. "You're lucky I keep my phone on," Regina remarked aloofly, flicking on the porch light. "Force of habit."

The ex-Mayor headed back into the warm house as Emma peeled herself unsteadily off the porch and teetered behind. "But luck has a way of finding your family, doesn't it?" Regina pointed to the study, "Have a seat." She paused with a dirty chuckle, "Want a drink?"

The Sheriff turned and slowly shook her head, looking like she may vomit at the mere suggestion.

"I'll take that as a 'no'," Regina smirked. "All right, Miss Swan. It's late. Say your peace." The brunette took in the sight across from her. Emma was slumped on the love seat, legs akimbo. Her hair was flattened at the crown, surely the remnants of wearing a wig for several hours. The rest of her long blonde curls hung limp and straight, stringy and matted here and there by some unknown, wet substance.

Her white Oxford shirt was stained in patches and untucked from the pencil skirt in the back, the tan pantyhose ripped or running in several spots, exposing patches of pale flesh.

Regina held up her hand to halt Emma and sighed in disgust.

"Wait. For the love of all that is pure, if you're to imitate me, at least sit like a lady."

Emma attempted to shift and cross her legs, but her skirt was too tight and she was too drunk. Regina grunted impatiently. "Hold on." With a wave of her hand, Emma was returned to her normal wardrobe: jeans, long-sleeve grey Henley and boots.

"That's better," Regina assessed. "I never thought I would say that about your wardrobe, but what do you know? Now, continue."

Warm and somewhat back in her element, Emma began.

"I am so sorry," she rasped sheepishly. "Everything you said was right. I was completely wrong. I think what I feel most bad about is that we were becoming…friends." The word didn't feel right in Emma's mouth, Regina could tell by the why the blonde screwed up her face, but she understood the meaning, anyway.

A short lull blanketed the room as Emma considered her next words. "I want you to know one thing. I chose the costume because I thought it would be funny and people would get a kick out of it. I didn't do it to mock you. I didn't do it to hurt you. I don't…I don't want to hurt you."

"But don't you see?" Regina asked quietly. "It did hurt me, regardless of whether I was there."

The former Evil Queen watched the woman as she considered the statement. Remorse rolled off the blonde in waves. She looked so dejected, defeated and guilt-stricken Regina realized she felt bad for Emma. _Why do_ I _feel bad for_ her? _Damn those Charmings, how do they continue to elicit such sympathy, even when they are at fault?_

"Do you know what amazes me? That these people are constantly shocked at how I continue to be 'evil' Yet they are continually cold to me, mock me and shun me from their gatherings. Wouldn't you be 'evil' too?"

The statement sobered Emma a touch and she pulled back her head, trying to process it. There was a question on her face, but Regina realized the blonde was too impaired to put it into words.

"Has anyone ever thought…" Regina started, musing out loud. She was unconcerned with Emma's presence, believing the woman was so out-of-her mind drunk she would never remember her words, anyway.

"What? Tell me, please."

"Has anyone ever thought that I never wanted this? To be queen? To be 'evil'?" the brunette spit out the last word with disgust. "Has anyone ever thought that instead of being queen, I was simply a pawn?"

Regina shifted on the couch as Emma leaned forward enthralled by the woman's words, which were suddenly being uttered in the softest of voices.

"You met my mother. You saw my roots. I take responsibility for my actions, of course, but does no one consider how my life would have developed in a different…environment?"

The brunette slowly shook her head with a small smile. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. You're blind drunk. You'll remember little, if anything. Maybe that's a good thing."

"I may be blind…" Emma searched for the word to complete the phrase, despite the fact she heard it three seconds earlier, "...drunk, but I can hear," she mumbled. "Go on."

"As a child, I wasn't allowed to play with the children in the village or the castle. I was always surrounded by adults, no one my own age. I had no friends. I always thought it was me, that it was my fault, but as I look back on it now I'm sure it was the fact that everyone was intimidated by my mother. She kept a tight rein on me as I grew, and after I married, as queen I was surrounded by sycophants and spies. I never knew if anyone liked me for me. There was only one person…" Regina trailed off in the memory.

"Who was it?"

"Cook," she replied wistfully. Emma watched fascinated as Regina's eyes softened and a tiny grin graced her face. She had never seen the woman sport such a genuine expression.

"I went down to the kitchens one day to berate the staff. The milk they provided for a formal tea was sour, and I was so enraged and embarrassed, I stormed down there ready to banish someone into the forest."

"_Where is Cook?" the Queen bellowed as she sailed into the kitchen, her silk gown rustling along the stone floor. The thought of lowering herself to actually enter the kitchen was abhorrent, only enraging her more, but the steward could not be located and someone had to pay – now – for ruining her tea. The steward would pay later. The assembled staff - pantlers, scullery-maids, butchers, larderers, bakers and bulters - quickly bowed, curtseyed and bolted out the backdoor, half-petrified, half-shocked. Royalty in the kitchen – not to mention _the Queen_ – was unprecedented. _

_But one person remained: a short, stout grandmotherly type who wiped her hands on her apron and calmly walked across the room._

"_Your Majesty," she said, dipping into a shallow curtsey. "How may I help you?"_

"_You will tell me who sabotaged my tea with sour milk," she seethed, spitting out the words like bullets._

_Regina was convinced the staff hated her, like so many in the land constantly comparing her to the former queen. The deceased royal was so beloved Regina figured she probably gave everyone on her staff unicorns and let them address her as "Ava."_

"_I have no idea, Ma'am, let me check it." Cook walked along the counters and tables until she found the milk jug and dropped her nose for a whiff._

"_Oh, gods! That's terrible!"_

_Cook walked backward with the jug – one never turns one's back on royalty – and moved it to the rear entrance, far away from the Queen._

"_Your Majesty, I am very sorry. Fresh milk was delivered this morning. Someone must have mixed up the jugs."_

"_Someone will pay for this!" Regina demanded. "Who?"_

_Cook instantly had a plan and mentally considered it in milliseconds. It was risky, for sure. At best she could lose her job. At worst, her life. _Why not?_ she figured. She hadn't grown to the ripe old age of 52 without by playing it safe. Or clean living, that's for sure._

_Even though she rarely saw the Queen, Cook knew of her background, specifically, her mother. The white-haired woman never turned down an opportunity to gossip with her peers in other households and villages; it was a small land and word traveled fast. Cora's cruelty and reputation preceded her daughter's arrival. And even though the girl was livid and doing the best to intimidate and frighten, Cook knew the Queen's heart was not in it. She could tell the woman – no more than a child, to be honest - was a product of her ambitious, hateful mother._

She has kind eyes, _Cook thought._ Here goes nothing.

"_Your Grace, will you stir the sauce?"_

_Regina gaped in shock, had the question not been so potentially lethal, Cook would have found her reaction quite funny._

"_Excuse me?"_

_Cook busied herself with meat at the hearth, basting and turning it on the spit._

"_I beg pardon, your Majesty, but I seem to have lost my saucier. And the rest of the staff," she noted pointedly. "The King has requested his favorite roast tonight. If the sauce burns I can't salvage it, and I would hate to deny the King."_

"_Very well," Regina huffed, a mixture of shock and anger. She knew better than most that one does not deny the King. "What do I do?"_

"For months I made excuses to visit the kitchen. I always had a complaint at the ready to justify the trip. Even after the King…died."

Regina pensively looked off to an indeterminate point in the distance. "That's how I learned to cook and bake. From her. I'd banish everyone from the kitchen so it was just me and Cook." The brunette chuckled. "No one could figure out how Cook kept her head."

"Did Cook come over with the curse?"

"No. She died shortly before. In her bed." Regina smirked at the memory. "With a footman half her age."

"Go Cook!" Emma giggled. "What was her name?"

"I never asked. I never _thought_ to ask." She snickered solemnly. "How horrible is that?"

"It's horrible you were raised like that," Emma corrected.

The grandfather clock broke an awkward silence with two bells.

"Ah, Jesus. I gotta go."

Emma rose to make her way to the door, only to weave shakily when she reached her full height. "Whoa…"

Regina darted forward instinctively and steadied her by the forearm.

"How are you proposing to get home?"

"Archie said to call and he'd pick me up."

A brief flash of irritation surfaced. _The Charmings continue to inconvenience the masses even when they're at fault. Unbelievable._

Regina bit back her instinctive reaction and paused for a moment, seemingly unsure of her next move.

"It's very late, no doubt Dr. Hopper is in bed. It would be...unfortunate to inconvenience him. Why don't you stay in the guest bedroom?"

Emma wondered if the punch had already rotted her synapses to the point in which she had lost any and all comprehension.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Regina looked slightly shocked at the question, unsure of the answer herself.

"It's late. You're here. I have a spare bedroom."

Emma nodded, satisfied with the explanation. "OK."

As the women headed for the wide staircase, Emma swayed into Regina, who grabbed the blonde's shoulders to steady her. She smelled liquor on the woman's breath, the particular scent immediately taking her back to another time, another land; one she previously associated with leather, sweat and body odor.

Regina kept her hand at the small of Emma's back as they climbed the stairs, the Sheriff with a firm grip on the railing. "What exactly were you drinking, anyway?"

"Dutchman." Just saying the word made her want to hurl.

Regina's eyes widened in horror. "Good gods, you're lucky you're not dead. I used to smell that repulsive punch on my guards from time to time. I used to have them flogged for it. You're lucky we're not back in the old land."

"No kidding. In more ways than one."

Regina guided Emma to the guest bedroom and opened the door, signaling her to enter. The Savior carefully walked in, sat on the bed and removed her boots. When she looked up, she found Regina standing in front of her with a glass of water.

"Here," she directed, handing Emma the glass and opening her other hand, two pills in her palm. "Aspirin," she noted, answering the question before the blonde could ask.

"Ah." Emma gently took the pills from Regina's hand, popped them in her mouth and chased them with half a glass of water. "Thank you."

"Good night, Miss Swan." Regina turned and walked toward the door.

"Regina, wait. Would you do me a favor?"

Regina's face was the picture of exasperation as she turned and stood in the doorway. "Are you mad? Do you want me to fluff your pillow? Tuck you in?"

"No, no. Although I wouldn't say no to the tucking in," Emma noted with a grin. "I meant, do me a favor and let me do something nice for you tomorrow, to start to make up for tonight. Let me make you dinner or something."

"You can't cook."

"You don't know that."

"That's what Henry says."

"He doesn't know everything."

"He _lives_ with you. You fed him frozen waffles for dinner last night."

"Ugh, that narc. OK, well, I know people who can cook and they can help me. Please, let me do this…for you."

"Fine, you won't even remember this, anyway, so yes, I will have dinner with you tomorrow. Are you satisfied?"

"Yes, thank you."

Regina turned to leave, only to stop once more. "Wait, who is expecting you to call for a ride?"

"I guess Archie. Or my moth— Mary Margaret."

"Text you _mother_, Miss Swan. If you don't, they'll be here with pitchforks and torches before dawn thinking I filleted you otherwise."

"Will do. Thanks, Regina. Really."

Emma dashed off a quick text to her mother, then gently lowered herself onto the surprisingly soft bed. _I wonder if anyone's ever slept here._

All the muscles in Emma's body seemed to melt into the mattress as she began to fall asleep, her brain simultaneously burning off and buzzing from the alcohol and the events of the evening.

Two doors down, the former Evil Queen fell into slumber hoping the blonde would forget her favor request, while the Savior passed out praying she would remember.

**TBC**

**Reviews greatly appreciated! I truly enjoy hearing what you liked, didn't, etc. When rereading this before posting today, I cracked up at the fact I had Regina using "filleted" even before I saw the S3 premiere. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This chapter is where the story really begins to diverge from canon. Going forth, everything post Queen of Hearts never happens. Standard disclaimers, etc. in Chapter 1.**

Emma lay splayed across the bed, face down like a corpse at a crime scene, when her phone rang, splitting the silence. She pushed her torso off the bed to find it and - more importantly, shut it off – but her brain was first concerned trying to answer one question: _Where am I?_

Eyes squinting and head pounding, it took her a few seconds to get her bearings. It obviously wasn't her room, the sheets were too nice and there were no clothes or empty glasses on the floor. She looked to her left and spied water, a bottle of aspirin and a note. The phone had mercifully silenced itself as she grabbed the paper and began to read.

_Miss Swan,_

_I took Henry to his soccer game, I will drop him off at your apartment when it is over. Lock the door behind you when you leave. If you're still here when I return, I will kick you out myself._

_Regina_

Awareness washed over her brain like a wave on shore. All the events of the previous evening rushed back in full. _God, that was such a bad idea._

Emma read the note again and chuckled. _She's kidding, right?_ The woman was still trying to determine Regina's mood from the note when the blasted cell phone rang again.

_What the fuck?_ Emma scanned the nightstand, only to realize the ringing was coming from within the bed sheets. Flipping them up, she rooted around until she felt a vibration and grabbed the device.

"Whaaaaat?" she groaned.

"Emma. Hi, honey."

The blonde pulled the phone away to glance at the time, 9:10 am, and scooted toward the nightstand.

"Hey," she rumbled, shaking three pills out of the bottle, swallowing them and following with the water.

"What's that noise?"

Emma paused until she finished the glass.

"Aspirin."

"Ah, so why are you still at Regina's? Are you chained up?" Snow giggled nervously.

"Yes, I'm here in the dungeon. Regina was nice enough to chain me to a bed with high-thread-count sheets and leave me aspirin, water and my phone so, you know, I could play Angry Birds until you came to rescue me."

Emma lay back down on the bed, eyes closed, the sarcastic reply having exhausted her brief spark of energy.

"How do you know I'm here, anyway?"

"Your text," Snow replied timidly.

"I didn't text I was at Regina's." Emma removed the phone from her ear and opened her eyes, putting the call on speaker and checking her texts.

"I texted you: 'Crashing at a friend's. I'm fine. Talk to you tomorrow.' How'd you get Regina's out of that?"

Snow bit her lip; she didn't want to divulge that Ruby put the tracking app on her phone. She hated lying – especially to her daughter. _But this is more of an omission_, she justified.

"Well, all of your friends were at the party last night and we left you at Regina's." She deftly shifted gears, trying to draw Emma's attention in another direction. "Since when is she your friend?"

Emma blew out an exasperated breath. _I feel like death warmed over and she's giving me shit about Regina, again._

"If I told you I was staying at Regina's, you'd lose your mind and come charging up here to cause trouble."

"Concern about your welfare is hardly trouble, Emma," Snow huffed.

"Listen, _Mom_. What I did last night was terrible. After she yelled at me, I apologized, we had a good talk and Regina nicely asked if I wanted to stay. She didn't want me to wake you or Archie up for a ride. She was doing it to be nice to me _and_ _you_. And that's on top of, you know, _saving our lives._ Stop thinking she's going to kill me or you or David or anyone. She's changed. She's trying to be a better person for Henry and I think it's working. I'm the one who fucked this all up."

"But I—"

"No. Let's end it there. My head is killing me and all this talking doesn't help."

"Fine. When are you coming home?"

"Soon. Let me get up and, like, functioning. I have to run a few errands and then I'll be back. Henry's at the soccer game with Regina, she'll drop him off after." A memory – a very important one - popped up. "Oh, and I need the apartment tonight."

"Why?"

_Goddammit I need my own place._

"I'll tell you when I see you. Catch you later."

Emma hung up before Snow could respond. _That conversation is going to suck. "Yeah, I need the apartment so I can have Regina over for dinner." Christ._

Emma propped herself up against the headboard. The upright position wasn't so painful anymore and the aspirin seemed to be kicking in. She opened a browser on her phone, did two minutes of research and dialed another number.

"Hey, there."

"Hey, yourself," Belle replied impishly. "Are you among the living?"

"Very funny. Can you arrange a delivery for me today? I'd come in but I don't want my business all around town."

"I'm pretty sure it already is," she noted with a laugh.

"I need 15 yellow roses sent to—"

"I think I know where they're going. Fifteen, huh? Yellow?" Emma could practically hear Belle trying to bite back a grin, her voice full of whimsy.

"Did I get that right?"

"You did, indeed."

"I don't have my wallet on me," Emma realized out loud. Or keys. Or a car. "Can I call you with my credit card later?"

"Sure. I'll deliver them myself early afternoon. The regular driver won't go there."

Emma felt a pang of guilt and sadness on Regina's behalf. "Thanks a lot. I'll call you later."

Emma hung up and swung her legs over the side of the bed to put on her boots. She stood and felt…OK. She did her best to make the bed, even though she'd bet her car Regina would be stripping it and washing the sheets the moment she returned.

She slowly, quietly walked into the upstairs hallway, realizing A) she was alone in the house, and B) she had never been up there before. She resisted the urge to poke around and get a gander at Regina and Henry's rooms. She'd already fucked up enough for one day, for all she knew Regina probably had the whole house rigged with security cameras. She didn't need to violate the brunette's trust yet again.

Emma walked down the stairs, her footfalls echoing loudly in the giant, empty house. It seemed so lonely. _Is this what it's like for Regina? Jesus._

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she headed for the study in search of paper and a pen. She grabbed both trying not to look at anything else on the desk, then left a note:

_Regina,_

_Thank you for the bed, water and aspirin. They were all very much appreciated. I'll see you at my place tonight at 7._

_Emma_

The Savior then headed out the front door – taking care to lock it, thank you very much – and headed out for the walk back to the station; she'd find David and grab a ride home. The fresh air would be good for her hangover, she figured, and it'd give her time to run through everything she had to do to get ready for tonight.

XXXX

_This is such a bad idea_, Regina thought as she sat in the heated leather comfort of her car outside the Sheriff's apartment.

She was due to knock on Emma's door in 5 minutes, and as much as the ex-Mayor hated to be late, so equally was she uncharacteristically nervous.

_I don't get nerves_, she thought, her hackles rising. _I _cause_ them. Damn this woman. Even when she's trying to do something nice she aggravates me._

Yet there the former Queen sat, unable to muster the courage to unbuckle her seatbelt and exit the car. Emma Swan made her uncomfortable, uncertain and uneasy, three emotions Regina had steadily sought to avoid her entire life. She spent the whole day see-sawing between trying to figure out why Miss Swan bothered her so and trying not to think about the woman at all.

When her alarm rang at 7 a.m., Regina rolled over and instinctively started running through her day's list of to-dos: Henry's soccer game, yard work, dinner with Miss Swan.

The brunette gasped as she realized the latter, along with the fact her dinner companion was most likely sleeping it off two doors down. She cracked the door to Henry's room to reveal her son still sleeping soundly, then quietly made her way down the hall to the guest room, curious if her impromptu boarder was still alive.

Regina peeked in from the hallway, unable to resist the temptation. _Gods, she sleeps like she lives – all over the place._

She returned to her room to shower and dress, then roused Henry, who deemed himself well enough for his game at 9 a.m. As he thundered down the stairs, Regina prayed the hung-over woman would remain asleep until they left; she didn't want to have to explain the previous evening to her son. Mother and child had just started taking tiny, tentative steps to repair their relationship, she didn't want Henry thinking she cursed Emma into unconsciousness and left her to die in the guest bedroom.

Later, Regina was multitasking as usual - worrying about the impending dinner and raking leaves - when the phone in her jacket vibrated causing her to jump.

**How's 7 for dinner?**

**You remembered.**

**I wasn't that drunk.**

**Yes, you were.**

**OK, I was. Stop avoiding the question. Is 7 OK?**

**Yes.**

**See you then. Oh, it will be just you and me. I kicked the others out for the night.**

Regina climbed the stairs to The Charmings' apartment, her heart hammering as she reached the front door and knocked. _What is wrong with me?_

The door swung open to reveal a sock-clad Emma wearing jeans, an untucked light-blue chambray shirt and a wide smile.

"Hi."

"Hello."

Emma could feel the anxiety rolling off Regina in waves. The formerly most-powerful woman across two realms was currently about as confident as a feral cat, suspicious, skittish and ready to bolt at any second.

"Are you nervous?"

"Of course not," she denied, all the while looking like she was about to throw up.

"It's OK," the blonde joked in a stage whisper. "I am, too."

Emma smiled warmly, trying to settle her dinner partner's obvious nerves. "No one else is here," she soothed, ushering the brunette through the doorway. It was a miracle considering what it took to get the others to leave.

_Snow leveled a steely gaze at her daughter: "We're coming home at 11."_

"_Yes, _Mom_."_

"_I want her gone by then."_

"_Don't worry," she teased with a leer. "If we're…_busy_ I'll tie a scarf on the door."_

_Snow's eyes bulged while Emma cackled, gently pushing her across the threshold._

"_What does that mean?" Henry asked curiously as David steered him down the hallway. "Nothing," he rumbled. "C'mon."_

Regina removed her coat and Emma took it, hanging it on the wall and gesturing her guest toward the kitchen.

"It's OK, I get it. When it's usually just the two of us, you're threatening me or I'm yelling at you. But we won't have that tonight, right?"

Emma grinned, eyes bright. It was so damn infectious; Regina couldn't help up offer up a small smile in return.

"We will not," she confirmed.

"Good. Now, I hope you're hungry."

Regina sat at the kitchen island, while Emma walked to the other side, put on an apron and started cutting up fruit.

"Something smells good," Regina noted with surprise.

"Remember how you accused me of being unable to cook?"

"I would classify it as more of a statement of fact, but, yes."

"Well, I'm not super-skilled at cooking dinner, but I am an excellent breakfast chef."

Regina looked disgusted. "Please tell me you're not making pancakes."

"Even with chocolate chips?" Emma's face had collapsed into a sorrowful pout. "I can make cool shapes and everything – bunnies, Mickey Mouse, a blob that kinda looks like a duck…"

Regina blanched slightly while Emma burst out laughing.

"Kidding. I'm making a frittata."

"A what?"

"It's basically an omelet for people who can't fold an omelet without fucking it up. Like an omelet you bake. You'll like it, it's good – filled with veggies and cheese and all that other wholesome jazz you love."

"I look forward to it."

"You should, it's excellent. And I have croissants, I bought those off Granny. And fruit."

"I'm impressed," Regina conceded.

"And, hey, what about this?" Emma waved her hands up and down her torso, proudly displaying her apron, which read: Teachers Do It With Class.

"Nice sentiment, although I can't vouch for its validity."

Emma laughed. "I got it for my moth— Mary Margaret last year. She didn't like it then and I think she likes it less now."

"Now that she's your—"

"Yeah."

Silence enveloped the room as Emma went to the refrigerator and returned with a carton of orange juice and a bottle of champagne. Regina watched with a keen eye as Emma loosened the wire cage on the neck of the bottle, held a towel over the cork and gently pried it loose until a resounding pop rang out throughout the kitchen. The blonde produced two flutes and poured both liquids into each, handing one to Regina, a question evident on her lips.

"Mimosa," Emma explained. "I used to tend bar here and there. This isn't a wine meal."

Regina took a small sip and smiled. "Very nice. So, how has the curse breaking change your relationship with Snow?"

"Jeez, dive right in, won't you?" Emma chuckled with a touch of remorse, her attention returned to the melon on the cutting board.

"It'd be easier to explain how it didn't. Everything changed and yet nothing did – does that make sense?" she asked, shrugging her shoulders. "It's weird because we're the same age. We were friends and talked about stuff on a whole other level than I would talk to my mother. And she can't, you know, _unhear_ stuff."

The kitchen timer interrupted Emma's explanation with a persistent buzz. She took the frittata out of the oven, blowing an errant strand of hair out of her face while she placed the hot pan on a trivet.

"She feels guilty for not being with me, sometimes I feel angry at her for not being there. We have a lot to work through." Emma stopped her flurry of movement and looked thoughtful as she inserted a knife into the center of the pan. "We should probably go see Archie." She turned toward Regina and smirked. "Maybe we could get a family discount."

Regina chortled as she took another sip of her drink. "It's all my fault," she acknowledged somberly.

"Technically, yes," Emma noted in a tone very light considering the subject at hand. "But I don't blame you."

"You're the only one in town."

"That just means I'm the smartest one in town," she declared. "But, seriously, you don't know that. I doubt everyone hates you."

"I doubt you're right."

"What about Archie?"

"He may be another exception," she acknowledged.

"Listen, if this hadn't all gone down, I never would have had Henry and _you_ never would have had Henry. In the end, that's how I handle it mentally."

Regina looked stunned at the woman's acceptance of the events. She doubted she herself would be so forgiving if the situation were reversed.

"OK," Emma announced proudly, "let's eat."

The pair moved to the dining room and lighter topics of conversation at the table. They had made their way through the frittata, croissants and fruit – and a few flutes' worth of mimosas - when Regina suddenly found her dinner companion uncharacteristically serious and pensive, so much so she asked, concerned, "What's wrong?"

"I think Henry should move back in with you."

"What?" Regina was shocked. "Is this because…is this some sort of reparation for last night?" Shock abandoned, the brunette moved immediately onto anger. "I will not allow my son to be a pawn in—"

"Whoa, whoa!" Emma jumped in loudly before Regina could get too wound up. "Absolutely not. Listen I know you don't think much of me, but I would never treat Henry like that. I've given this a lot of thought since I got back from the forest and Henry needs to be with you."

"I don't think that." Regina's voice was small and quiet.

"Think what?"

"You said, 'I know you don't think much of me' and that intimates I deem you unimportant or untrustworthy. Although we've had our differences," Regina snickered at the understatement, "I know you would never endanger Henry or use him in any way for your gain. Continue."

Emma sat stunned at the roundabout apology. She exhaled deeply and pressed on. "Thanks. Just so you know, I was planning to ask you to dinner next week to talk about this before, you know…last night."

Regina smirked, recalling Emma's pathetic state.

"So, first off, this place is way too small for three adults and a child. Mary Margaret, David and I are all adjusting to our new lives, or pasts, or whatever. It may get weird and I don't want him to see that. And I may be new to parenting, but even I know kids need structure and routine, and your house is the best place for that."

Regina leaned forward, enthralled, as Emma finished off her glass.

"And, last, Henry needs to realize the world – especially our world – is not all black and white, good guys and bad guys. He needs to see you for what you are – a loving mother and woman who's trying to be the best person she could be. The best way to do that is to live with you so it will be drilled into this thick skull."

Regina's throat was tight with emotion; she tried to swallow but was having a hard time. "He is not a dullard."

"Of course not, but he's an 11-year-old boy and they're know-it-all idiots. Plus, Mary Margaret and David are fawning all over him, I don't want him to become spoiled or think he's a prince."

"But he is."

"You know what I mean."

Regina nodded. "There's one problem, my son hates me."

"He does not. I think that's his way of trying to be an adult…to be like his grandparents." Emma added in a mocking tone, "Strong and brave."

"He thinks you're strong and brave, as well," Regina noted.

"Please. I'm an ex-con. I shouldn't even be allowed to be a meter maid, let alone sheriff."

Emma refilled her glass and moved the bottle toward Regina, who nodded. "How did it go with him last night?"

"Actually, quite well. I made his favorite meal, he caught me up on school and we watched his favorite movie. We didn't argue and I didn't get any attitude." Regina paused, her throat tightening once again. "He even called me 'Mom'."

"See, I told you, he's coming around. Listen, I'm not running away or anything. I still want to see him every day and have him sleep over, it's just. I think that's what's best for him." _And you_, Emma left unsaid. "There's one other reason. If Henry lives with you, like it used to be, people might get off your back and start treating you a little better."

Regina took immediate offense. "Oh, so if _you_ deem it safe for me to raise _my own son_, then it's alright for everyone to like me? I don't need anyone else, Miss Swan, and I don't need your help to rehabilitate my image."

_Well, shit, that didn't go well_, Emma mused.

"I agree, but all the other dopes in this town need to see you for what you are now, not what you were then."

"They have every right to despise me, I ruined their lives."

"Not everyone," Emma countered defensively. "And Henry's not the only one in this town who needs a little lesson on how there's no such thing as black and white."

"I'd be careful running around thinking you know what's best for the town…or me," Regina advised, her tone softening.

"I didn't mean it like that, it came out all wrong. I just…I just think you deserve a fresh start like everyone else. So, what do you think?"

Regina nearly laughed. Everything she wanted was being handed to her without any apparent ulterior motive. _That's never happened to me before in my life._

Regina smiled. "I agree. Thank you."

Emma raised her champagne flute and Regina followed suit, a tiny tink sounding out as they toasted their arrangement and touched glasses.

Heavy subjects out of the way, Emma was desperate to lighten the mood. She somewhat remembered Regina's warm smile the previous evening when she talked about Cook, so she decided to find a topic she knew would make Regina happy and set her back in her comfort zone.

But before she could direct the conversation, Regina did it for her. "I want to thank you for the flowers. They're lovely," she whispered bashfully.

"It was the least I could do," Emma replied, surprised at this timid side of the former Evil Queen.

"I admit I was surprised there were 15. I assumed Mr. French was an idiot who couldn't count." Emma interrupted with a giggle at that uniquely Regina assumption. "But then I looked it up online. I forgive you."

Emma smiled warmly. "I appreciate that. Thank you." She took a sip of her drink and set off to make Regina feel a little more comfortable. "So, I know how you learned how to cook. How did you become such a good gardener? I don't have the knack for it."

Regina finished her drink and placed the glass on the table, a large smile gracing her face.

"That's an interesting story. So, one day…"

**TBC**

**Thanks for the favorites, follows and reviews. Reviews are much appreciated! Thank you.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I want to thank the Guest reviewer who wrote: "keep the little bit of tension between them… the tension and bit of hate is why I love Swan Queen as a pairing!" Initially, this story was going to be a quick three-parter and I was going to get them together and tie it up in the previous chapter. But this review really got me thinking and changed how I wrote the previous chapter and where it will go from here (don't worry, SQ is still endgame). This is why reviews are so great and appreciated. Because this person took the time to send along his or her thoughts, this story is the better for it (and longer!). Thank you!**

Emma walked from her cruiser to the soccer field musing over the events of the past few weeks. In two years she had gone from lonely, big-city, single orphan to beloved member of a small town insta-family, albeit a decidedly non-traditional one; the latter proceeding rapidly since her return from the Enchanted Forest.

Ever since their dinner, Regina and Emma had quickly reached a solid, non-confrontational, almost-effortless working relationship when it came to raising and sharing their son. Considering their brief history, it was a stunning reversal; and while Regina was still overly formal – and Emma still determinedly casual – it worked.

Henry had agreed to the new living arrangements far more easily than either mother expected. Snow, as anticipated, complained to her daughter. Loudly.

"_Don't trust her, Emma," Snow warned._

"_Duly noted, but I do. And, no offense, you don't get a vote."_

Emma's life was so domestic and seemingly everyday, she now found herself a walking cliché, a soccer mom heading to the field to catch her kid's game after work. The November sun was setting fast in the late afternoon and the field's floodlights were already lit, illuminating the pitch. Parents littered the sidelines sitting or standing in small groups, talking and watching the action. Save for one spectator, sitting all alone, a fact that caused Emma's heart to tighten painfully.

On the edge of the east sideline, removed by the proverbial 10-foot-pole, sat Regina, somehow posture perfect, even in a folding camp chair. Clad in a long winter coat, she was rubbing her gloved hands together for warmth and watching the game so intently she didn't hear Emma's approach, startling when the latter spoke. "This seat taken?"

"Gods, you scared me."

"Sorry, wasn't meaning to," Emma apologized, setting down her chair and handing over a coffee. "You look like you could use this."

Regina gently pried the lid open and noticed it was made exactly the way she liked.

"Thank you," she said gratefully with a warm smile.

"Hey, I notice things." Emma winked as she took a sip of her own and sat down. "How's he doing?"

"Very well. He seems to be better on defense than offense."

Emma nodded in agreement, impressed with Regina's observation given that up until very recently, the woman had no idea how the game was played.

_Emma and Henry were kicking around a ball in the backyard when Regina emerged from the house, ready to call them to dinner. Emma stood in between two lawn chairs set several yards apart, her gardening-gloved hands held up ready to defend her "net."_

"_C'mon, punk. Do your worst," she challenged with a sneer._

_Henry laughed at her bluster. "Remember, you asked for it."_

_Unnoticed, Regina watched the scene unfold in the fading light. A smile crept unbidden onto her face._

"_Here it comes."_

"_You're a lot of talk. Are you trying to put me to sleep and then kick the ball over my body while I nap?"_

_Henry took a few steps back, then wound up and launched a rocket right into Emma's abdomen. The ball landed with a resounding thud, yet the blonde held on as she collapsed to the ground._

"_EMMA!" Henry yelled, panic in his voice as he ran toward his mother. Regina was right behind him, stomach tight with worry._

_Henry had just reached the woman, who was lying face down, when she rolled over and with a laugh grabbed his hand and pulled him to the ground. Regina stood over the two still scanning the blonde for injury when she felt Emma reach for her hand and yank her down, too._

"_Miss Swan!" Regina protested weakly._

_The mothers and son laid on the frozen earth, two laughing and one trying to pretend to be offended._

"_Are you alright?"_

_Emma turned her head to find Regina's a breath away. "I'm fine, just trying to wrestle the cockiness out of this one."_

"_And who's going to beat it out of you?" Regina asked, raising an eyebrow._

_Emma broke into a shit-eating grin. "Wouldn't you like to know?"_

The wind whipped up, breaking Emma out of her reverie and reminding her of the blanket she had stashed in her backpack. She pulled it out and spread it over her lap and Regina's.

The brunette gasped, feigning horror, free hand at her chest. "Miss Swan…"

"What?"

"People will talk," she noted, amused.

"About what? Seriously, what more can they say? The whole town saw me imitate you and fall off a bar. I don't think it could get much worse. Plus, I'm cold. Fuck them, they can get their own blanket."

Regina unleashed a dirty chuckle that made Emma's breath hitch in her throat.

"You don't like how people perceive you. You don't think it's fair."

"You're putting words in my mouth," the brunette replied smoothly.

"You like how they treat you?"

Regina only had to go back less than an hour earlier when she set up her seat near a group, only to have them all silently pick up their chairs and move away. "No, I don't."

"So let them see us together. We're friends. It would be the one good thing I could use this stupid title for."

"Sheriff?" Regina snorted. "You're going to arrest them? For what, hurting my feelings?"

"No," Emma replied quietly, "the other one."

Regina thought for a second, then softly drew in a short breath when she realized what Emma meant. "You're here to save me?" she asked, her voice dropping into a whisper.

Emma turned and looked straight into biggest brown eyes she had ever seen. "Maybe I am."

XXXX

Emma was finishing up a stack of paperwork when she heard the telltale click of heels echoing down the hallway.

"Afternoon, Regina," she called out, long before the woman crossed the threshold.

Her former boss waltzed in, a question on her lips. "How did you know it was me?"

"The clickety-clack of your Louboutins," Emma answered brightly, still head-down in paperwork. "And your perfume, it smells…" The blonde looked up, got a good look at her visitor and suddenly lost the power of speech. Regina was wearing a long-sleeved maroon dress that hugged her like a second skin, revealing an ample amount of cleavage for the daytime and ending just above her knees. Her hair was flawless, as usual, and her makeup was smoky. "…like you. It smells like you. Wow, you look…where are you going?"

Regina was slightly confused given she was at her destination. "What do you mean? I was coming here."

"Well, you look fantastic. You sure class up this joint."

Regina felt her face get hot as a small blush raced across her cheeks. "It's not hard to do."

"You make it look easy."

"Thank you. I just wanted to look nice today," she demurred.

"Mission accomplished." Emma leaned back and crossed her legs up on the desk. "What can I do for you today, fair citizen?"

Regina opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. Now it was her turn to go mute. In her mind, inviting Emma to Thanksgiving dinner was much easier. She asked, Emma said yes, and that was that. But the reality of the situation was much different. The Sheriff sat behind her desk gazing at her adoringly, a big, cute, stupid smile plastered on her face. Emma was looking at her so intently, so sincerely, it was hard to proceed.

"I wanted to invite you to join Henry and me for Thanksgiving dinner."

The wattage of Emma's smile ratcheted up several thousand kilowatts. She dropped her feet from the desk and planted them on the floor. "I would love that."

"Excellent. We'll see you at noon?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "Are you still picking him up today or do you need me to?"

"No, I'll get him."

"OK." Regina turned to leave but stopped when Emma sputtered out a panicked, "Oh, hey!"

The brunette looked at her expectantly, but Emma didn't continue, that dress was still distracting her and stopping her neurons from firing correctly. "Do you need me to bring anything?" From the look on her face, Regina wasn't following her train of thought. "For Thanksgiving?"

Emma did the math in her head. Thanksgiving was a week from tomorrow. _If she says yes, I have a week to learn how to cook something._

"Oh, no. Don't bother I love to cook."

Emma grinned. "And I love to eat."

"Well," Regina noted as she strolled out, "we're a match made in Heaven, aren't we?"

XXXX

Emma floated into her apartment, clearly still riding the high of her afternoon visitor.

"Someone's in a good mood," Snow observed as Emma walked in and plopped on the couch. "What's the special occasion?"

"Nothing," Emma lied casually. "Just a good day. A few easy calls."

She didn't enjoy lying to Snow but Regina was still an extremely touchy topic between mother and daughter. Whenever the woman dropped Henry off at the apartment, she stayed in the car, and Henry and Emma went out of their way to not mention her name in front of Snow, a tacit understanding it would be in everyone's best interest.

"Hey, I was thinking about Thanksgiving," Snow mentioned, bustling around the kitchen prepping dinner. "I wanted to have it here, but when I figured out how many people I wanted to invite, and I realized they wouldn't all fit. What do you think about having it at Granny's?"

Emma blanched and her eyes widened as she saw the oncoming train. She went from never having any Thanksgiving plans to being the hottest Turkey Day guest in town.

"What's wrong? You don't have to work. I checked with your father, Leroy is on call."

"It's not that. I, uh, already have plans."

Snow turned and stared at Emma, already guessing the answer, but asking the question anyway. "With _who_?"

Emma's nerves were on edge and a chill raced up her spine. She truly hated confrontation, the aftermath of years of brawling foster parents. "Regina invited me and Henry," she rambled sheepishly. "Well, Henry was already going to be with her, so just me."

"No, oh, no. No. _No!_ This has gone too far, Emma," Snow thundered. "I know you're trying to be nice to her and let Henry spend time with her but he is your son. He is _our_ family. This is our first Thanksgiving as a family!"

Rage boiled in Emma's chest as her face flushed and her eyes narrowed in anger.

"Henry is _Regina's_ son. Mine, biologically, but he is Regina's. Why don't people get that? I can't stand the way you people treat her."

Snow's cherubic face turned beat red as her voice erupted into a roar. "You people? You mean the people she cursed from their homeland? The people whose memories she erased? The people whose lives she stole? _Those_ people?"

Plates and utensils were slammed and banged, taking the brunt of Snow's rage as she angrily set the table. "I don't know what she's doing to you, Emma, but this has got to stop."

"She's not doing anything." Emma stood and walked toward her mother. "Why do you always assume she's up to something?"

"_Because she's always up to something!_" Snow fumed. "Read the damn book. Ask anyone in this town. How can you be so naïve?"

"You're wrong, Mary Margaret," Emma barked, her voice pure steel. "You're wrong."

Snow couldn't hold back her tears of frustration and disappointment. After nearly three decades and two realms Regina was still charging after everything Snow loved.

"Can't you at least call me Mom? Maybe once in a while?"

Emma groaned in frustration, grabbed her jacket and headed for the door. "I'm outta here."

XXXX

Emma hopped in the Bug and was headed out of town for a breather and dinner when The Imperial March rang out from her phone. _Regina_, she smiled. A millisecond later she felt guilty and realized she needed to change that ringtone. What was once funny she now recognized as hurtful.

"Hey, what's up?"

The smile left Emma's face the minute she heard Regina seething on the other end of the call.

"You signed Henry up for football?"

"Yeah?" she confirmed, confused over the woman's obvious anger.

"Football? Are you insane?"

_Ah,_ Emma thought with a laugh. _I get it._ "It's _flag_ football. They barely get touched. No tackling. He asked. I signed the permission slip. Everything's fine."

"Everything is _not_ fine." Regina took off like a rocket – her voice all fire and acceleration. "He could get hurt. You should have asked me first. I am his legal parent. Yet everyone ignores that, as usual. _I'm_ his emergency contact, _I'm_ listed as his parent on every single form yet everyone defers to _you_. Everyone calls _you_."

Regina paused to take a breath. "He is _my son_!" she hissed.

Emma was so stunned and angered by the verbal assault she pulled over to the side of the road and put the car in park.

She rubbed her hand over her face, incredulous she was being yelled at – again – in less than an hour. _Is it a full moon?_ Emma pinched the bridge of her nose at her impending headache and exhaled heavily, trying to think before she spoke.

"I can't believe you pulled that card. Again. Henry _is_ your son - I defend that to everyone. I defend _you_ to everyone. I believe it. I support it. Of course you're his mother. You're getting upset over nothing. Calm down and we—"

"You don't tell me what to feel, Savior," Regina snapped bitterly. "You don't tell me what to do. Or what my son can do. Do you understand?"

Before Emma could answer, Regina hung up.

The Leaving Storybrooke sign beckoned in the distance. _Yes, please and thank you,_ Emma thought as she laid her head on the steering wheel. _Get me the fuck out of here._

XXXX

After dinner two towns over, Emma returned to the place Maine never knew existed and wondered where she was going to sleep. She could go to Granny's, but she didn't feel like answering questions as to why she needed a room. Plus, the first call Granny would make would be to her parents. She didn't want to talk anymore tonight.

She could stay with Ruby, but the waitress' inquisitive nature would mean more talking and her loose lips meant that her business would be all over town by breakfast. She could go to Regina's— _ah, shit, scratch that. _That left only one option.

It was just after 10 p.m. when Emma walked into the station to find Leroy engrossed in his phone.

"There better not be porn on there," she warned jokingly. "At least not on town time."

"Ha, ha," he deadpanned, turning around the screen. "Angry Birds."

"How appropriate."

"What're you doing here?"

Emma sat down at the other desk and started opening drawers. "Gonna keep you company. Crashing here tonight. I hope you don't have to bust anyone, I need that bed."

Shutting the last drawer, Emma stared at Leroy. "Alright, where are you hiding it?"

"What?"

"The booze, I know you have some here."

"I don't drink on duty," he replied defensively.

"I know."

"Then why do you want to confiscate it?"

"I don't want to throw it out, I want to drink it. Hand it over."

The deputy walked over to a file cabinet across the room, opened the top drawer, pulled out a flask and tossed it to the Sheriff, who caught it one-handed.

"File under B," he joked.

Emma unearthed a bottle of Tylenol PM, grabbed two pills, chased them with a swig from the flask and grimaced.

"Shit, file that under R: rock gut."

Emma grabbed a fresh pillow and blanket out of the closet and headed for the cell.

"So what's going on, sister?"

"Eh, I don't want to get into it, but thanks for asking." She turned and held his gaze. "I appreciate the thought."

Emma reclined on the thin mattress and closed her eyes.

"Leroy?"

"Yeah?"

"Shoot anyone who tries to bother me," she instructed seriously.

"You got it."

Emma took another swig off the flask and tried to pass out to quell the gears turning in her mind. _The two most important women in my life and they're both pissed at me. Great._

Emma gasped so loud at the realization, Leroy jolted. "What?"

"Nothing, sorry. I'm OK."

The blonde finished the flask, hoping to kill any other deep-seated realizations from making themselves known. The sounds of birds yelling and structures crashing floated softly across the room as she drifted off to sleep.

XXXX

"Emma…hey, sister, wake up."

The Sheriff of Storybrooke woke up in her own cell, Leroy's grizzled face and gravelly voice hovering above her.

"Gah!" She jolted toward the wall. "What?"

"Time to get up, you have a visitor."

"I told you to shoot," she groused. _This was such a bad idea._

Emma cracked an eye and saw Leroy with this gun unholstered, muzzle pointing toward the floor. Regina was standing unamused across the room, dressed in all black: turtleneck, three-quarter-length leather jacket, dress slacks and boots. _Shit, Regina. _Memories of the previous night's phone call rushed back. And on the heels of that recollection came one more thought:_ God, she looks good._

"I was going to shoot her but I knew she could crush my windpipe from across the room before I pulled the trigger."

Regina arched an eyebrow in reply.

"Jesus, put that thing away, will you?" the blonde chided.

Emma sat up and put her feet on the floor, then slowly rose, walked out of the cell and held up an index finger at her guest. She headed for her desk, grabbing two aspirin and a cup of water from the dispenser. Downing everything, the blonde took her jacket off the chair and headed for the door, Regina following without a word. "Going out, be back later."

The pair walked silently to Regina's car, which proved far more warm and comfortable than the cell. She started the engine, and Emma sank into the heated leather seat, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. "What can I do for you?" she mumbled.

Regina was about to speak when Emma had another thought. "Wait." She sat up, opened her eyes and looked at the brunette. "How did you know I was here?"

"Henry put an app on my phone that tells me where you are."

"Fucking _fuck_! Do I have any privacy in this goddamn town? Jesus, I'm gonna kill Ruby."

Emma cradled her head in her hands, elbows braced on her thighs. Her exclamation rattled her overtired brain, still lagging from the effects of the makeshift sleep-aid from the night before.

"I'm sorry," Regina said softly. "I thought he had permission to do so."

Emma shook her head "No," then felt bad at the outburst. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. It's been a long night and I didn't get a much sleep."

"Why did you sleep at the station?"

"I got into a fight with Mary Margaret."

"After we talked?"

"You call that a talk?" Emma snorted. "No, before. Then _you_ called for Round 2."

"What was the fight about?"

Emma sighed and was about to explain when Regina reached into the back seat and handed her a plastic container.

"What's this?" she wondered out loud, feeling the warmth of the plastic on her palm.

"An apology."

Emma removed the lid and a savory aroma enveloped the car.

"You made me a frittata?" The blonde grabbed a plastic fork and took a bite. "And you made it better than me," she noted, chewing excitedly. "Not fair."

"Not so, yours was excellent. It was so good I wanted to learn how to make it myself."

"Wait," Emma's eyes opened wide with wonder. "Did you add bacon to this?"

Regina nodded.

"Ugh, I love you," Emma groaned happily. "Thanks!"

Regina hoped the woman didn't notice the blush that warmed her face as she handed over a bottle of orange juice.

Emma smirked. "Just juice, right?"

Regina returned the smile. "Just juice."

"I'm sorry I signed the flag permission slip," Emma noted remorsefully between bites. "I should have asked you; I really didn't think it was a big deal. And I don't think Henry was trying to play us or anything."

"He wasn't, I talked with him this morning. He said he asked you because he forgot to ask me and it was due yesterday. The only reason he came to me was because he needed to buy equipment."

Regina looked deep in thought, trying to grab the thread of an idea. "By the way, what's a jock?"

Emma erupted in laughter, coughing and sputtering, almost choking on her breakfast.

"I think I don't want to know," Regina admitted, watching Emma wipe tears out of her eyes.

"I'll tell you later," she chuckled, clearing her throat. "I'm glad to hear Henry wasn't trying to do an end-around on you."

Regina narrowed her eyes in confusion. "It's a football term, don't worry, I'll teach you. I mean, if you're going to let him play…"

"I am. I trust your opinion."

"Thanks."

Emma dug back into her breakfast as Regina continued.

"I'm very sorry I yelled at you," she apologized sincerely as she watched Emma eat with gusto. "I…I'm still getting used to our arrangement and I overreacted. I'm sorry. I was wrong."

"It's OK."

"It's not OK. I shouldn't be so defensive," she conceded. "It's just…I've spent my entire life with people who want things from me or want to do harm to me. I'm not used to normal rela…interactions with…friends.

"I get it, I do." Emma paused to swallow and put down her fork. "Listen, we're all figuring this out as we go along, you, me, Henry. It's a steep learning curve. And you and I, we didn't have great parenting role models when we were growing up. I had no one and you had…" Emma trailed off unsure of how to complete the sentence.

"Indeed," Regina observed, finishing for her.

"We're going to make mistakes. I'm going to end up apologizing whether or not it's my fault and you're going to keep yelling at me." Regina laughed at the accuracy of Emma's prediction. "Just don't assume I'm trying to screw you over because I'm not."

The blonde rested her hand on Regina's forearm and squeezed it gently, holding her gaze and emphasizing her point. "_I'm not_." Regina covered Emma's hand with her own and squeezed back. "I know. Thank you."

A thick charge hung in the air as neither woman moved their hand, paralyzed by relief, happiness or an emotion neither was ready to name. Emma instinctively began to lean in as Regina broke the silence.

"What caused the fight between you and Snow?"

"Oh, right. _That_," Emma snickered. "Thanksgiving. She's upset that—"

"That you're spending the holiday with Henry and me," Regina concluded sadly. "I don't want to cause trouble for you, Emma, if you want to go to your parents I—"

"Wait. You called me 'Emma.'" The blonde smiled wide at the realization.

"And?"

"You've never called me Emma."

"I most certainly have," Regina protested.

"I would have remembered. Maybe you call me that in your head, but all I ever hear is 'Miss Swan.' Where's your phone?"

Confused, Regina pulled it out of her purse.

"What am I listed as in your address book?"

Regina bashfully pulled up her contact list and showed the screen to Emma.

"Swan, Miss? That's worse than Miss Swan," the blonde laughed. "Do me a favor, please call me Emma from now on. And change me in your phone, jeez."

"You and your favors," the brunette muttered, feigning annoyance while she edited the contact field.

"There," she held up the screen. "Happy?"

"Very."

"Now about Thanksgiving—," Regina started.

"I want to be with you." Emma cut in, her response immediate and firm. She watched Regina's expressive eyes widen and realized her wording. "And Henry. You and Henry"

"You're sure?"

"I am."

Emma broke the tension with a joke. "Especially if you cook like that," she noted, glancing at the empty container.

"Could I ask you one more favor?" Emma glanced at the clock on the car's dash.

"What?"

"Drop me off at Granny's," she urged. "I need to talk to _Miss Lucas_."

**TBC**

**Thank you for the follows and favorites. Reviews sincerely appreciated.**


	5. Chapter 5

Hands full of coffee, Emma gently knocked on the door of Archie's office with the toe of her boot.

"Come in!" she heard through the door.

"Little help?"

When the door swung open, Emma extended a coffee.

"Hi. Is this time still good?

"It is."

Emma crossed the room and sat in a wingback chair. She peered over the rim of her coffee to find the kind-faced therapist watching her with genuine concern.

"So, what can I do for you?" The question was accompanied by a sense of deja vu as Snow stopped by the previous day, in a near panic at her daughter's burgeoning friendship with Regina.

"_Emma's not my patient, and even if she were I still wouldn't be able to tell you anything," he noted, trying to soothe the woman's anxious state. "But from what you've told me, I think it sounds rather healthy."_

_Snow was incredulous. "What do you mean? How is that possible? Nothing is healthy around Regina! Not my daughter and not my grandson."_

"_Well, yes, back in the old land, being around Regina was dangerous, you're right." Archie tried to placate the woman with the initial agreement; he sensed she was about to bolt if he disproved her theory immediately. "I can't get into specifics about Regina, but I can say that she's sincerely trying to be the best mother to Henry she can be. And, from what you're telling me, it sounds as if Emma is doing the same."_

_Archie gently ushered Snow into the wingback chair and continued in as comforting a tone as possible. "Emma and Regina are going to be tethered to each other through Henry for the rest of their lives." The brunette appeared ill at the obvious statement. "I know you don't like that, but it's not going to change."_

"_I just want a relationship with my daughter," she protested, veering dangerously close to a whine._

"_I know you do. But that will take time." Archie thought for a second then posed a question. "What happens if you hold a bird too tightly in your hand?"_

_Snow looked confused at the conversation's path. "It struggles."_

"_And what if you clench your hand around it?"_

"_You could hurt it…or crush it."_

"_Emma is the bird. Think of it from her perspective: Her entire life, no one has held her. And, now, here you are, gripping her tightly. Your anger over Thanksgiving – even the fact she still calls you Mary Margaret – it's crushing her. You have to give her space. She will come to you in her own time."_

"_Really? That's your advice? Let her fly, be free?" The sarcasm sounded so odd coming from that cherubic face, Archie chuckled internally at how much she sounded like Regina._

"_I know it's not the most scholarly analogy, but it's valid." The therapist leaned back in his chair. "Happy endings take time – you should know that better than most."_

"I was hoping you could help me with a hypothetical question."

"OK."

Emma paused for a few seconds, then began. "These two people I know, they share a son—"

"Emma, you know I can't—"

"This is _strictly hypothetical_, Archie," she noted raising her eyebrows and staring pointedly.

"Alright, if it's purely academic. Continue."

"OK, so this guy, Em…ery, he shares a child with the mother. He's trying to become friends, to have a good relationship, and just when it seems like it's working, when it seems as if they're getting along better, the mother flies off the handle."

The leather of her coat creaked as she leaned forward on the couch. "I…I mean, Emery, doesn't know what to do."

Archie brought his hands together, propping his chin on top.

"What do you mean by 'fly off the handle'?"

"She becomes mean. Distant." Emma paused and added, sadly, "Angry."

"What does Emery want?"

"To be friends with the mother, no yelling or fighting. For the kid…you know."

Archie nodded then thought for a moment, trying to decide how to make his point without violating his professional relationship with Regina.

"Does the mother have anyone else in her life? Family? Other friends?"

"No."

"So this woman is basically, aside from her child, completely alone?"

"Yeah."

"Has the mother gone through any personal trauma recently?"

Emma stared pointedly. "Uh, you could say that."

Archie tried to bite back a smirk as he removed and cleaned his glasses.

"Custodial issues and parent relationships traditionally boil down into two issues: control and trust. Would you say the mother has unusual difficulty or a complicated history in either area?"

The Sheriff barked out a short, uncontrollable laugh. "Ah, yeah. Both."

"So, in terms of trust: Has Emery violated the mother's trust recently? Upset her?" Emma flashed back to her Mayor Mills homage at the costume party and, to a lesser, accidental extent, the flag football incident.

"Spectacularly."

"Alright, so what you, um, _Emery_ needs to do is re-establish the trust between him and the mother."

"How does he do that?"

"Simply by keeping his word. If he says he will drop off the child at 6, drop him off at 6. If the mother says not to give the child candy - no candy."

Emma leaned forward, forearms on her thighs, listening intently.

"When it comes to control, if a person thinks she is losing it, she will simply hold on tighter and lash out at anyone or anything that threatens her authority. In this case, Emery should…wait…Does Emery want the mother to have authority over this child? Is she a good mother?"

"Yes!" Emma insisted defensively. "She is!"

Archie raised his hands, palms up. "No judgment here. I'm just trying to help."

"Sorry," Emma shrugged. "It's just, no one gives the mother a break, you know? Everyone thinks they know her, but they don't. She's a good mom."

"OK, so when it comes to _any_ relatively important decision in the child's behalf, Emery should consult the mother – bedtime, friends, activities, etc." Emma gulped sheepishly on the last one. "That will demonstrate that Emery respects the mother's authority, control and expertise, all things that are important to her, whether the mother can verbalize it or not.

"This won't happen overnight," Archie warned. "If…the mother…has extreme control and trust issues extending back for a long period of time," he coughed awkwardly, "it will take a while to build a solid foundation of control and trust."

"Do you think Emery could do it?"

"I do. He just has to be patient."

"Great." Emma rose from the couch with a smile. "Thanks, Archie. I mean it."

She headed for the door, only to stop and turn when she reached the handle.

"Do you think I could come see you? You know, for me? I'd like to talk some things out."

"Of course," he encouraged. "I'd be happy to. What day works best for you?"

Emma ran through her schedule in her head. "Tuesday mornings are good. How often do you think I should come?"

"Once a week should be fine," he noted, checking his appointment book. "How are Tuesdays at 10?"

Emma swallowed nervously at the reality of having an actual day and time. "Yeah, that sounds good. See you next week?"

"See you then."

Emma left the office and Archie smiled to himself, wondering if he should get a new appointment book dedicated solely to Storybrooke's First Family.

XXXX

The former Evil Queen sat in her study, enjoying the silence on a crisp, cool, Sunday. Less than two months ago, such quiet was mocking, a painful reminder of all she had lost. But since her informal custody agreement with Emma, Henry lived with her during the week and at his birth mother's on the weekends, leaving the woman two days of solitude she now welcomed.

This day she was using the time to plan Thanksgiving dinner and clean the house top to bottom. By all accounts it was already spotless, but given Emma's invitation, Regina felt the need to take another pass. Not that the blonde had exacting housekeeping standards, she thought with a chuckle. Emma would probably be fine with eating the traditional meal on paper plates and – the horror – in front of the TV.

Emma. Just the thought of the woman sent a jolt of nervous excitement through her body. And she'd been thinking about her often. They would see each other several times a week – all under the familiar "for Henry" guise. Every Wednesday Emma was expected for dinner, and every Wednesday she showed up with the wrong wine. Regina drank it just the same, touched at the blonde's effort. Lately, Emma had taken to checking in on the brunette for reasons even she couldn't remotely connect to their son.

_Regina answered the doorbell looking as if she were about to start a town meeting, although now the only thing she was about to start was a load of laundry._

"_What are you doing here?_

"_And, good afternoon to you, too." Emma held out a white paper bag. "I brought you lunch."_

_Regina raised an eyebrow. "Why?"_

"_Because I thought you might like it. And I wanted some company."_

_Emma also knew Regina loved Granny's chicken salad and was in effect banned from entering the restaurant without Henry or Emma._

"_So as usual, it's all about you," she teased. "What if I'm busy?"_

_Emma smirked._

"_Well, I _could_ be. Come in."_

_Emma followed Regina into the kitchen, where the woman began setting out plates and glasses._

"_Why are you being nice to me?"_

"_Because it's about damn time someone is."_

"_I don't want your pity."_

"_And I'm not pitying you," she noted, exasperated. "You're my friend, is it wrong to want to eat lunch with a friend? You're the mother of my son, for Christ's sake."_

_Regina's eyes widened._

"_OK, for the record, that sounded much less weird in my head."_

_Regina chuckled and pointed toward a seat. "Sit down before you hurt yourself."_

Seemingly since birth, the fight-or-flight instinct had been strong in Regina. As a child and through nearly all of her marriage, her favorite option was flight. But, after gaining knowledge, strength and power in magic, she'd been fighting ever since. Until now. When it came to the Savior she wanted neither fight nor flight. Which left the question: What exactly did she want?

Regina was pondering the answer when she heard the loose rattle of Emma's Bug approaching. It grew in volume to teeth-chattering levels, then was abruptly silenced in front of the house.

As one car door slammed, then another, the brunette gracefully swung her legs off the settee, slipped on her heels and stood. She finished her glass of water, glanced at the mantle clock – 2:59 - then headed for the foyer.

"Mooom! I'm hoooome!"

Henry barreled through the front door as Regina crossed the threshold of the entryway. The boy shrugged the duffle bag off his shoulder, unceremoniously dropping it with a resounding thud in the middle of the room. Chastisement died on Regina's tongue as she was enveloped in a hug from the child to whom she was losing inches seemingly every day. Emma was right behind him in a sprint as the grandfather clock struck the second of three chimes.

"Are we late?" she asked, skidding to a stop. Her eyes darted around the room looking for Regina, as her breath came in short bursts.

"Right on time."

Emma nodded her head in affirmation as she regained her breath and closed the front door. As the last chime faded, she continued.

"Phew. I'm sorry we cut it so close. We got carried away making hovercrafts."

"Yeah, it was so cool!" In the minute he had been home, Henry had already hugged this mother, headed for the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water and returned to sit on the staircase. "We took old CDs, balloons and water bottle caps, glued them together and made them fly."

"You could have just levitated them on your own," Regina noted, looking at Emma.

"Ha, ha. This was _scientific_. Plus, frankly, I'm scared of magic. Tell your mom what you learned, kid."

"It's all about lift, airflow and friction," Henry noted, taking a swig off the bottle. "Emma found a site with cool science projects online. They gave you instructions and also explained the theory behind everything. It was really fun."

"We lost track of time, sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for, you weren't late." Since their fight over flag football the past week, Regina noticed how exceedingly considerate Emma had been when it came to Henry. She asked for Regina's opinion on bedtimes, activities, hell, even what type of toothpaste to buy Henry.

"I think it is wonderful you two are engaging in educational pursuits, especially outside school. Well done."

Henry and Emma beamed at the virtual pat on the head.

"Hey, since we're doing such a good job…" Henry looked to Emma, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh, yeah. So, I promised Henry we'd get ice cream before heading home, but we ran out of time. Any chance I could take him to The Cow? We wouldn't be out long."

Regina's response was measured, but pointed: "You shouldn't promise things you can't deliver. Now you've put me in an untenable position. If I say 'yes' he ruins his dinner. If I say 'no' I'm the bad guy. Again."

Emma's eyes softened. _God, I screwed up, again._ _Shit._

"But I had a really healthy lunch!" Henry interjected. "Grilled chicken and salad!"

Regina looked at mother and son, blinking in surprise.

Emma recovered, a triumphant smile on her face. "I know, right? We marinated chicken _and_ grilled it. I got one of those grill pans."

"I don't what shocks me more: That you could marinate chicken, grill it without setting yourself on fire, or make a salad," she teased. "Or that you chose chicken and salad in the first place."

"Laugh it up. It _was_ salad from a bag, but that's still salad…Hey, come with us. It's still light out. We could get a nice walk in, fresh air – all that healthy stuff you love so much. And ice cream is dairy. And dairy is very important for growing boys. And sheriffs."

Emma's face split into a grin, her eyes bright. Henry grabbed Regina's hand and gave it a gentle tug.

"Yeah, Mom. C'mon!"

Regina relented, powerless against the handholding and Emma's ridiculous argument. "Alright. Bring your bag up to your room first. I'll get my boots."

Emma smirked in victory as the pair ascended the staircase – Regina all grace and perfect posture, Henry passing her on the left and tackling the stairs like five football players diving for a loose ball.

Emma leaned against the doorway to Regina's study and reviewed the past 5 minutes. A year ago Regina's response would have been an emphatic "No", case closed, end of discussion. Hell, back then, she wouldn't have even asked in the first place, and even if she did, most likely she would have been tossed from the house.

But in the weeks since that ill-fated Halloween party, the trio's relationships had improved to a point in which had Emma not been a direct part of it, she wouldn't have believed it. Things were not perfect, for sure. There were still occasional heated discussions, but no sucker punching or homicidal tree-trimming like when she first came to town.

Any insults or taunts between the women were almost affectionate, and Emma realized that when she "won" a challenge - like she just did - Regina and Henry did, too. These days, there were no losers.

It was so nice, so normal. Her entire life, Emma yearned for a "normal" life: parents, traditions, holidays, family dinners. It's all she ever wanted, and the woman was finally starting to get it.

XXXX

_This was such a bad idea, _Regina thought as she locked the front door and met Emma and Henry.

"What sort of ice cream stand is open in November – _in Maine?_" Regina mocked as the trio began the 20-minute walk in the setting sun. "I'm wearing a scarf and winter coat to eat ice cream – _outside_."_._

"It's like 50-something degrees, you don't need a scarf. And, hey, you made the town."

"The town, yes, but not its inhabitants. They were fully formed."

Emma laughed. "Well, now you're just nitpicking."

The Spotted Cow stood between the park and the waterfront and was open April to Thanksgiving. If the winter was mild enough, the shop was known to open as early as St. Patrick's Day. New Englanders – even those cursed from another realm – loved their ice cream.

As they ambled through quiet neighborhood streets on the way to the harbor, Emma snuck a sideways glance. Henry walked between his two mothers, so excited by the prospect of a group outing he uncharacteristically held both their hands, repeatedly swinging each a little back and forth as he excitedly explained the earlier hovercraft adventures.

The act reminded Emma of toddlers who hold their parents' hands and beg to be swung up in the air. She silently chuckled at the thought of attempting it now: Henry was only a head shorter than both of them – and that was with Regina in her usual heels.

Still, the boy's open affection surprised her. He was 11, a time in which most start thinking about holding hands with kids their own age, not their mothers. Maybe Henry craved what Emma did: ordinary, everyday staples of family life, like a trip to the ice cream stand. She caught Regina's glance and tilted her head at Henry. The brunette smiled and shrugged, content and unwilling to question any affection.

Regina's sleek black hair gleamed in the late fall sunset, her face seemed to glow, and a small grin graced her face as she added the occasional "Yes" and "Hmmm" to Henry's never-ending monologue. Regina turned her head, caught Emma's stare and smirked, rolling her eyes at their son's non-stop commentary.

Mothers and son rounded a corner, which led onto the main road to the harbor. Henry let go of their hands. "I see my friend Mike up there. Can I go?"

Henry looked at Emma for an answer. Emma looked at Regina. The brunette nodded and the boy took off. The women continued the final 100 yards together in silence, arriving to find Henry talking to Mike, both wisely already in the surprisingly long line, waiting to order.

"What do you want?" The brunette had her purse in hand and was getting ready to order their ice cream.

"Oh, no. No, this was my idea. My treat. What would you like?"

Regina sat down – surprisingly without argument - back ramrod straight, looking as elegant as one could at a picnic table.

"A small orange sherbet in a cup."

Emma chuckled and held up her hands, palms out. "Whoaaaaa. Hold on, lady. Let's not go crazy. Seriously? Sherbet?"

"I thank you not to mock my selection." Regina feigned offense.

"Well, I'm impressed you went all crazy ordering a small and not that tiny-ass kiddie size they give babies and dogs."

"Emma! We're next!"

Emma and Henry were soon back at the table bearing their bounty: a birthday cake cone with rainbow sprinkles for Emma, a Moose Tracks cone with chocolate sprinkles for Henry and a small orange sherbet in a cup for the former queen.

"Regina, try this," Emma held out her cone. "Live a little."

"I think not."

"Oh, come on. If you're worried about cooties, I haven't touched this part." Emma turned the cone as proof.

"Try it, Mom."

One side of Regina's mouth turned up in a tiny smirk as she leaned her head toward the cone, opened her mouth and licked up the side. She closed her mouth and tried to swallow without any sprinkles landing on her scarf or coat.

Emma's delight at Regina's sampling quickly turned into unexpected arousal as she watched the woman's tongue lap up a wide swath of ice cream. When she pulled away, her lips were wet and slick with traces of yellow ice cream. A couple of rainbow sprinkles escaped, landing on the corner of her mouth.

Emma couldn't stop staring at Regina's lips or those lucky sprinkles. A jolt of electricity rocketed straight to her groin and her mouth parted slightly.

Regina lifted one eyebrow at her dumbfounded companion.

"Oh, you…uh…have some, you know, right there."

Emma pointed to the sprinkles, stopping just short of actually touching the woman's lips. Regina grabbed a napkin and did the honors.

"So, whaddaja think?"

"It's very sweet."

"I know, isn't it _great_?" Emma dove in for her next lick, making sure it was right on top of where Regina had tasted.

Ice cream finished and darkness set in, the group extricated themselves from the picnic table and tossed their trash. The temperature dropped considerably since the sun went down, and combined with the ocean breeze, a chill was in the air. Regina shivered almost imperceptibly, but Emma happened to have her eyes fixed on the brunette, whose hands were jammed in her coat pockets. Since seeing Regina's work with the cone, she couldn't seem to look anywhere else.

"Are you cold?"

"I forgot my gloves."

Emma pulled hers off and handed them over. "Take mine."

"What? No."

"Why?"

"Because you're cold and I like to share."

"I'm fine," Regina protested.

Henry had started the walk home with a friend and was out of sight when the pair turned back onto the quiet, empty neighborhood streets to make their way home. Lamps lit up the houses with a soft, warm glow breaking the dark night. Families were settling in for the end of the weekend, the late football game, due-Monday homework or dinner.

Emma felt a keen sense of longing as she boldly reached into Regina's pocket, gently took her hand, and deposited their joined hands back into her coat pocket.

Regina turned, surprise on her face. It had been so long since someone held her hand. Her fingers instinctively curled around Emma's leather ones, as she felt a thumb slowly rub across the top of her hand. Sparks of excitement, anxiety and hope raced through her chest, unbidden and uncontrollable.

"Body heat," Emma explained matter of factly. "Hey, I offered you the gloves outright…" She felt the woman's fingers, tense with surprise, slowly soften in her hidden grip.

The women walked in silence for a minute. Acorns and leaves crackled underfoot and Emma wished she wasn't wearing her gloves so she could feel the softness of Regina's hand in her own.

"You could have told him it was OK," the brunette noted serenely.

"Huh?"

"When Henry asked if he could go ahead, on the walk over. You could have given him permission."

"I know, but I wanted it to be your call."

"Why? You're his mother, too." Although hand in hand, the pair looked straight ahead as they talked. "Why do you defer to me so?"

"What do you mean?"

"You check with me on everything as of late." Regina laughed at a memory. "You asked me what type of ketchup to buy Henry."

"I wanted to make sure I got the right one."

"Emma…"

The blonde exhaled slowly as she considered her response. Her first reaction was to make a joke. The next option? Lie. The truth was always near the bottom, but maybe it was time for it to rise to the top.

"I'm trying to do this right," she faltered, "to be a good mom and not screw up your…momming."

Regina chuckled. "Mothering."

"Right. I'm not an experienced mother, you are. I gave birth to him but you brought him up. You know what's best, I'm still learning. I don't want you to feel edged out or threatened or anything. I don't want to mess up all the good stuff you've done."

"I understand."

"Do you?" Emma's question was sincere. "I've been thinking about it – a lot – and I've been alone my whole life. I've never had anyone depend on me – expect for when Henry was a fetus and all I had to do then was make sure I ate and didn't do drugs."

Regina blanched at the statement; Emma felt her jerk slightly.

"I didn't, you know, do drugs."

"Oh, of course not. I'm sure. It must have been hard, being pregnant in prison."

"It wasn't great. But it was kinda nice because I had another person with me. I'd talk to him all the time, in my head. I really missed that after he was gone."

Emma felt Regina squeeze her hand. Emma squeezed back and found the confidence to continue.

"My whole life, all I ever wanted was to belong, to have a family. I do now and I don't want to screw it up."

The pair turned onto Mifflin Street, porch lights shining in the distance.

"I'm sure there's nothing you could do to 'screw it up' with your parents," Regina snorted, the colloquialism never sounding more awkward and formal.

As the couple reached The Bug, Emma stopped. Regina followed suit about to question why when Emma reached into Regina's pocket with her free arm and extracted her other hand**.** Holding them both, she looked Regina in the eyes. "I don't mean them."

Emma brought both hands up to her lips and kissed them.

"I'm going to head out. Tell Henry I said goodnight," she smiled softly. "I'll talk to you later."

Emma stepped into the car, started it up and winked at the speechless brunette before rattling away. Regina stood stock still watching the taillights disappear into the turn, feeling the phantom presence of Emma's lips on her knuckles.

**TBC**

**Reviews much appreciated!**


	6. Chapter 6

_Then love again._

Daniel's final words pealed relentlessly in her mind, as clear and loud as a church bell as Regina raked wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow of dead leaves littering her backyard. It was rather late in the season for such work, but Henry always seemed to be missing or in the middle of "very important homework" when the topic arose. And her regular landscapers, well, the ex-Mayor could add them to the list of nearly everyone in town who refused to return her calls. Everyone, that is, except for Emma Swan.

The repetitive scraping of the rake's metal tines against the cold, hard ground was almost soothing, a meditative soundtrack to the subject consuming her mind: what to do about her feelings for The Savior.

Regina thought back to that day in the stables, reliving the euphoria of seeing the love of her young life standing, breathing, flesh and blood. Finally, after decades of conviction – she _would_ get Daniel back - her faith was realized. She never got what she wanted, her happy ending was never realized. Until now - she had finally won.

It was an overwhelming joy that turned to horror in a microsecond as the hopes and dreams of decades came crashing back to reality when the man she planned to marry was revealed to be nothing more than a vengeful husk of his former self. Her chest tightened anew with pain and sorrow, still fresh and raw from abject despair as she remembered watching her love fade into dust.

Her feelings for Miss Swan had shocked her, barging into her brain and heart much like the subject itself: unruly, irrepressible and disrespectful of her history or desire. The woman she once hoped to avoid like the plague now made her heart race with a mere phone call. When they were together in person, Regina found she smiled more, laughed harder and felt happier than she had since Henry's arrival more than a decade earlier. Just the thought of seeing that horrid red leather jacket and its grinning owner made her beam, a shock of excitement radiating through her body. Regina stopped raking and realized, _I'm smiling like an idiot_ right now. _Dammit._

With Daniel now gone forever, all Regina wanted was the love of one person: her son. She would live out her days alone, content to be the best mother she could be to the son who represented all her hopes and dreams for a happily ever after. But then Emma Swan came barreling up from a well, unleashing feelings she thought were forever dormant. She tried to fight it; she didn't want to be that vulnerable again. It was too painful and she was too broken.

She knew they were playing a dangerous game and, soon, it would be too late to turn back. Their comfort level around each other was rising steadily, flirtations increasing with each encounter. Smiles, affectionate glances and thoughtful gestures – they were all conspiring to turn their simmering attraction into a rolling boil.

After the walk home from the ice cream stand and Emma's unexpected chivalrous hand kiss, Regina had vowed to stop their momentum. _This has to end, now._ She couldn't risk her darkened, weakened heart one more time. Loving and losing again would destroy her beyond all measure. How could she be attracted to The Savior? The White Knight. The child of her sworn, lifelong enemies. Could their union be more improbable? The stakes any higher? It was madness. All the evidence pointed to one conclusion: _This was a very bad idea._

And that was when Daniel's final words began echoing relentlessly in her mind. She hadn't thought at all about his last request; it was too painful, her brain always pushing it away when she thought about that day. But now her brain relented and his final plea refused to be silenced.

She realized Daniel had never lied to her. And although he was barely alive and sentient in the stables that afternoon, thinking back Regina knew from the look in his eyes he _was_ there, he _was_ telling the truth, and – once again – he was trying to give her the happy ending for which she had searched all her life.

The former queen resumed her raking with a sigh. She found herself in familiar territory – a dangerous path with an uncertain outcome. Time and time again she took this road and lost. Certainly, she thought, she was due to win. A little spark of hope warmed her chest. Perhaps this would be her sweetest victory, at last.

XXXX

Emma absently patrolled the easy streets of Storybrooke, grateful for the fact the town – sans magic - was about as dangerous as a daycare. Her mind was decidedly elsewhere as she drove slowly through neighborhoods, her thoughts consumed by her former boss.

Since their dinner the day after the now-infamous Halloween party, Emma had come to the ironic realization she was head over heels for the woman who tried to poison her just six months earlier.

When someone spoke ill of the ex-Mayor – a frequent occurrence - Emma found that she wanted to punch them in the face, her desire to protect Regina seemingly now as strong as her instinct to safeguard their son. When she wasn't with Regina, she wondered what the brunette was doing and longed to be with her. _Like_, she thought with a chuckle, _right now._

She had become a near-constant presence at Mifflin Street, especially since her relationship with Snow had grown so strained. The Savior had even taken to calling Regina at all times of the day, completely dropping any Henry-related pretense.

_Regina was changing bed sheets when The Clash's "I Fought The Law" blared out of her cell. Emma and Henry stole her phone at some point, because now whenever the Sheriff called, a picture of the two of them crossing their eyes, cocking their heads and sticking out their tongues appeared on the screen, accompanied by the classic punk song._

_Although she disliked the raucous ring tone, the picture made the brunette chuckle, but right now Regina's heart leapt into her throat._

_Her mind raced with worry._ It's 1:30 p.m. Henry is in school. Something happened to Henry.

"_Is everything OK?" she blurted in a panic. No time for salutations._

"_Yeah, everything's fine. Are_ you _OK?" Emma asked, voice tinged with concern._

"_Yes, it's just, the call scared me. I thought something was wrong with Henry."_

"_Huh?" Emma was taken aback by the assumption. "He's fine, I guess. Everything's normal at the school." Regina held the phone out as she heard Emma chewing in her ear. Anxiety over, the pair returned to their normal banter._

"_Must you eat into the phone?"_

"_Sry, Iphf hnry." Emma swallowed. "Sorry, I'm hungry. I missed lunch. So, do you still love my ringbone?"_

"_It's obnoxious, just like you."_

"_And yet you haven't gotten rid of either of us. Hmmmm…."_

"Yet. _So, why are you calling?"_

"_Well, hello to you, too. I just….I just called to say Hi. To see how your day's going." Emma was surprised she needed to explain this._

_Regina was shocked, momentarily speechless. No one ever called her just to talk, to ask about her day or see how she was doing. Warmth immediately spread across her chest as she realized the gesture for what it was; a tiny flicker of excitement raced up her spine._

"_Oh, well…I'm fine."_

"_What are you doing?"_

"_Cleaning the upstairs, changing bed sheets."_

"_Sounds more exciting than what I have on tap." Emma leaned back in her chair and arced a ball of paper at the trashcan across the room. The ball hit the rim and dropped to the floor._ Damn.

"_A pity," Regina laughed lightly. "Would you like to come over and help? The fitted sheets are always troublesome."_

"_Just like me."_

"_Indeed. Perhaps you have a special affinity for them. You do know what fitted sheets are, correct? You probably sleep in a bag."_

Ah, we're going this route, _Emma thought._ OK…

"_Ha, ha. They're the ones with the things at the end." Emma used her hands to mimic bed corners, an attempt that was lost on the woman at the other end of the phone._

"_That is the worst explanation of a fitted sheet I have ever heard."_

"_Heard many, washerwoman?"_

"_None aside from this, but I doubt any could be worse." Regina tried to sound as uninterested and unimpressed as possible, despite how much she enjoyed their banter._

"_They have the…" Emma strained for the right word, "elastics! They have the elastics on the end and they have rounded corners. Ah, ha!"_

_Regina held the phone between her shoulder and ear, bringing her hands together in a slow clap. "Well, Brava, Sheriff," she added playfully. "Well_ done." _Regina's voice lowered seductively on the last word, sending a spark of arousal straight to Emma's core. "Your expertise aside, I doubt your superiors want their Sheriff helping the ex-Mayor make beds."_

"_You never know. I patrol. There could be crime afoot on the second floor of 108 Mifflin."_

"_Really? And what type of unlawful acts do you think may occur here?" Regina's already-deep voice had lowered to the basement in a smoky, sultry purr._

_Emma was slack-jawed, turned-on and stalling for time to think up a reply when the office's emergency line rang._

"_Dammit. I have to get that. I'll call you back."_

_Emma picked up the phone, angry that this little shit town couldn't keep it together long enough for her to finish what was to date the most promising conversation she'd had in a while._

"_Sheriff!" she barked._

Static crackled over the patrol car radio, breaking the blonde's reverie.

"Emma, what's your 20?" David's voice rang out clear, calm and strong, three adjectives that defined the man quite well.

"Near the Harbor."

"Can you come in?"

"On my way."

Emma released the talk button on the mic and dejectedly returned it to the clip on the dash. She drove slowly, in no rush to talk to her father after the blowout with her mother over Thanksgiving. Since the argument, Emma had barely seen her parents. She and David were working opposite shifts, which meant he made a special trip in to see her. _Shit_.

She visited the loft when she knew Snow was at school and only then to grab a quick shower and a change of clothes. She'd return after midnight, knowing her parents would be fast asleep, and slept in past when they left for work. She had been spending most of her time at Regina's or with Ruby, anxious to avoid any more run-ins with Snow. Since their argument over the holiday, the apartment was an uncomfortable, awkward space. _I need my own place_, she thought wearily.

Granny's was out – her business would be all over town, plus she wanted a kitchen and a second bedroom for Henry. Ruby mentioned something about an apartment over Game of Thorns; she made a mental note to look into that after the holiday as she parked the car and walked into the station.

"Hey." Emma shrugged off her coat and sat behind her desk, offering a small smile along with the greeting to her father as he sat at the desk opposite.

"How are you doing, Em?"

"I'm OK."

"Your mother's very upset," he noted gently.

Emma's hackles jumped to attention. "Are you here to run interference? Convince me to come to dinner?"

"No," the prince's words firm but kind. "I just wanted to see _you_. Where you spend the holiday is your choice. I'm not here to talk you out of it. I just wanted to make sure you're OK."

Emma's defenses dropped. She felt guilty for automatically getting pissed at a man who had never been anything but considerate to her. Not to mention the fact that he was, you know, her father.

"I am," she sighed. "I just….I need to be with Henry and Regina. It's where I'm supposed to be."

Charming listened to his daughter carefully. He assumed she was talking about Thanksgiving, but her tone, her eyes, body language and choice of words were all inconsistent with his conclusion. They all pointed to something else. Something was…oh. _Oh_. He may have only been a shepherd, but even he could now see what was clearly in front of his face.

The man was stunned. He never suspected this, ever. But suddenly the reality of it hit him right between the eyes, which widened with the realization. David exhaled slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Are we talking about just the holiday or something more?"

Emma's cheeks immediately flushed, tipping her hand when she realized how transparent she was. "Uh…"

"It's fine, it's OK," he soothed. "I just…I never suspected."

Emma snickered. "Neither did I until recently…Don't tell Mom."

Charming laughed. "_Now_ you call her Mom? Don't worry. I don't like keeping things from your mother, but she's in such a fragile state right now, I have no desire to break her completely. That's a conversation for you two."

"It's not that I don't want you to tell her, _I_ want to tell her," Emma explained. "She deserves that much."

"She does. It makes me happy you see that."

"I care about her, David. I really do. I don't want to hurt her. It's just, I react very badly to people who try to tell me what to do. Growing up until I got out of prison, I had no choice. It was horrible. I don't want to go back to that. I'm finally able to make my own decisions, be my own person, and here's my mother – surprise – trying to force me into stuff I don't want."

"We're talking about Thanksgiving again, right?"

"Well, yeah," Emma chuckled, "among other things."

The blonde looked down, picking an imaginary thread out of her jeans. "I want to be a family with you guys, but it's going to take some time. We've all gone through a lot and I can't go from orphan to smothered child as fast as she can go from my roommate to my mother."

David nodded, then rubbed his chin and squinted his brilliant blue eyes at a new thought.

"You and Regina, have you—"

"No! _No_." Emma interrupted, mortified.

"Gods, no!" he laughed. "Not that. I meant, have you told her? Does she know how you feel? Does she feel the same way?"

"We haven't talked about…us…yet. I think she knows how I feel, and I think she feels the same way. I haven't found the right time yet. I want to take it slow. I don't want to spook her."

Emma's choice of words immediately brought David back to the stables and their recent violent reunion with Daniel.

The prince sighed, placed his palms on his thighs and leaned forward. "Listen, I just want you to be happy. I love you no matter what. That said, I need to tell you about what happened while you were in the old land with your mother. You should know this before you move forward with Regina."

Emma mirrored his posture, listening intently, as her father told her about the day he received a call that Dr. Whale had been attacked.

XXXX

Henry was reluctantly peeling potatoes under Regina's eagle eye when the doorbell rang.

"Thank God!" Henry exclaimed. "Emma!"

The boy raced to the door, Regina at his heels, anxious to welcome their guest.

Butterflies raced through the brunette's torso as Henry opened the door to find Emma, wide-eyed and smiling. She looked back and saw an excited Henry and his mother, dressed as a picture-perfect Thanksgiving hostess/chef: black dress slacks, heels and a maroon blouse covered by the requisite apron.

"Hey, Happy Thanksgiving!"

She swiftly walked through the door and grunted, nearly toppled by a tackling hug from her son. "Watch it, kid," she smiled. "You're going to knock me over one of these days."

Emma extricated herself from the boy's grip only to find him watching her expectantly. Henry's eyes darted from mother to mother, telegraphing his assumption. Both women looked tentative and a little shocked as they wordlessly figured out what Henry was waiting for.

Picking up on their son's expectation, Emma went in for a hug while Regina extended her arm for a handshake. Both looked at each other and laughed over the miscommunication, then tried again, switching to the other's advance, Regina moving in for a hug, Emma a handshake.

Henry huffed over their inability to even agree on a physical greeting. "Just hug, will you?"

Both stepped gingerly toward the other, wrapping their arms around each other like they were made of barbed wire. Once initial, awkward contact was made, Emma tightened the hug and Regina seemed to melt into her arms, closing her eyes and nestling her head into Emma's shoulder, lush blonde curls tickling her face.

Emma breathed in Regina's scent, all clean linen with a light touch of lavender, a smell uniquely Regina; she remembered it from her visit to the second floor after her impromptu post-Halloween party sleepover. Now she could enjoy it up close, her cheek cushioned against lush, sleek, onyx hair. She instinctively drew a hand up and down Regina's back, wondering how this larger-than-life woman was so impossibly petite and soft. She heard Regina sigh contentedly, warm breath tickling her neck.

The brunette reluctantly pulled her head off Emma's shoulder when she heard Henry start to walk away toward the parlor.

"Henry! The potatoes," she reminded, still in Emma's arms.

"I'm going to watch the parade!"

Regina was about to launch what Emma figured was either a threat or a command when she placed her index finger on Regina's lips and smiled. "I'll help."

"You can peel potatoes?"

"Like nobody's business. But there's a price."

Regina cocked an eyebrow as Emma grinned and tapped her cheek with her index finger.

Regina's cheeks flushed when she caught on. She leaned in with a coy smile and pecked the woman on the cheek. "Mmmmm," Emma hummed cheerfully. "Take me to those spuds."

XXXX

"I must admit, I thought you were exaggerating your potato peeling skills."

The women were working side by side in the kitchen: Emma, efficiently and expertly stripping potato after potato while Regina diced the squash. Electricity seemed to crackle in the relatively small space, temperatures and emotions running high as the smell of turkey wafted from the oven, enveloping the room.

"I am insulted at your assumption," the blonde scolded with a smile. "I'll have you know I've spent many an hour elbow-deep in potato peels." The lilt in her voice dropped a touch. She chuckled, ruefully. "Potato peeling was punishment for - we'll go with 'misbehavior' - at most of the homes. Hence, my exceptional skills."

Emma had casually mentioned group homes and foster situations on occasion and every time Regina felt a pang of guilt. "So, what was the big emergency yesterday?" Regina asked lightly, desperate to change the subject and the mood.

"Nothing that was worth ending my call with you, I'll tell you that," Emma grumbled. "Friggin' Pongo…I like Archie, but that man has to got to get that mutt under control."

"It is hard to believe a man who's skilled enough to counsel adults can't keep a dog on a leash."

"I know, right?" Emma paused, wondering how to proceed, but in true Savior fashion bolted right ahead, anyway. "I'm seeing him, you know."

Regina paused, the butcher knife poised over half a squash, mouth slightly open at the admission. "What?"

"I decided to go talk to Archie, you know, professionally. My first appointment was yesterday." Emma continued to peel away, eyes straight ahead, a large mound of shavings growing in the sink.

"Why?"

"Probably the same reasons most go." Emma laughed at her statement. "OK, not _the exact same reasons_, but a lot has happened to me in the last year." She stopped, placed the peeler and potato in the sink, and turned toward Regina.

"A lot has changed. And like I said before, I don't want to screw it up." Emma's voice morphed from confident and matter-of-fact to tentative and quiet. Regina drew in a small gasp at Emma's statement, placed the knife on the cutting board and faced her.

"You're not," she whispered.

"Really?"

"Really."

Emma was about to make her move when Regina surprised her, taking a step forward, cupping the blonde's face with one hand and stroking her cheek with her thumb. Emma grinned nervously, as Regina smiled back gently, threading her hand into thick curls and pulling her forward into a soft kiss.

As Emma's lips slid over Regina's she could feel the woman's lipstick, taste traces of the coffee she had earlier and heard a small, satisfied coo escape. Hands wet from the potatoes, Emma quickly dried them on the back of her jeans and closed the gap between their bodies, wrapping her arms around Regina's tiny frame. She was rewarded by the brunette deepening the kiss, snaking out her tongue to meet Emma's lips, which opened instantly. Spurred on by a soft moan of encouragement, the blonde backed Regina up against the sink and not-so-subtlety wedged a thigh between her legs.

Regina purred languidly, as Emma felt her break their kiss with a smile.

"Pretty romantic huh?" Emma smiled blissfully. "Our first kiss, over a sink filled with potato peels."

"It's not a windswept meadow of flowers, but it was sufficient," she teased.

Emma dipped her head, her smile so bright and emotions so high she could barely stare at the gorgeous woman, not believing her own luck. When she lifted her head, she saw eyes so deep, wide and vulnerable, her heart felt like it would split in two. Emma tilted her head in adoration and tucked an errant strand of mussed hair behind the brunette's ear, then kept her hand on her stunning face, cradling her cheek.

"Sufficient? I better try harder next time."

Emma moved in with a wolfish grin, rotating her hips just enough to earn a gasp from her partner. Then she leaned in capturing Regina's lips with her own, intent on doing just that.

XXXX

"OK, football is like war," Emma announced, gesturing at the TV. "The team in white is my parents' army, the team in black is yours."

"This analogy is disturbing, I want you to know."

Dinner over and kitchen cleaned, the women sat on the couch in the parlor, Regina nestled into Emma's side. Henry sat in a Windsor chair off to the right, headphones on, engrossed in his iPad, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his always-formal mother was all-but sitting in his birth mother's lap just five feet away.

Emma hoped this football lecture would detract from the fact that after a vigorous makeout session in the kitchen, and Regina's hand on her knee during dinner, she was turned on beyond belief with no chance for relief, not with Henry awake.

"The opposite ends of the field are called end zones. Imagine that your castle is there, in that end zone." Emma pointed at the south end zone. "The Charming team – or army's – goal is to get the ball into your castle. Distance on the field is measured in yards, and armies have four tries to advance the ball 10 yards. If they fail, they have to give the ball to your army and defend their castle against your army's movement."

Regina nodded, studying the action closely. A small gasp escaped her lips as the quarterback was sacked, driven ruthlessly into the ground by a gigantic linebacker.

"Oh, my…can they do that?"

"That's the quarterback, he's like the king. He directs the offense, deciding how to advance the ball and exploit the other team's defense."

"He looks hurt," she noted. "He's taking a long time to get up."

"Not a surprise. The guy who landed on him is probably well over 300 pounds."

Emma moved her eyes from the TV to her right, where her – _wow, girlfriend?_ – was nuzzled. She yearned to throw an arm around the woman or hold her hand, but Henry was right there. She didn't want to freak him out; not yet, anyway. Maybe his presence was a good thing, any additional physical contact would push her over a very private, personal edge.

"Speaking of 300 pounds, I want to get ready for dessert," Emma informed, excitedly.

"What do you mean 'get ready'?"

The blonde regretfully uncurled herself from Regina, crossed the room and reached into her bag, pulling out a pair of sweatpants. "I'm putting these on."

"And _what_ are those?" she asked with disgust.

"Sweatpants. I brought them to change into for dessert."

"Why?"

"So I can eat a lot of pie and my pants won't feel tight." Emma grinned, impressed at her foresight.

"I will not allow you at the table with elasticized trousers."

"Trousers!" The blonde tittered as Regina shook her head. "Well, fine then. I'll just have to sneak into the kitchen and eat like a servant."

"You will do no such thing, get over here. This quarterback is about to be attacked by another fat man."

Emma unceremoniously plopped on the couch; a single piece of paper couldn't fit between them. If they couldn't hold hands or cuddle, they'd damn sure be as close to each other as they could. "Telling me what to do already, huh?"

A small smile graced Regina's face as she turned her head, a breath away from the blonde. "You Charmings luck into everything, you do realize that…"

Emma leaned in for a kiss, but caught their son, still unobservant, out of the corner of her eye. _Dammit_. She groaned in frustration, Regina tittering at her reaction.

"Thank you again for dinner. It was amazing," Emma noted quietly. "This is the best Thanksgiving I've ever had."

"I can't imagine that's a hard list to top."

"Hey!" Emma feigned offense, pinching Regina lightly, just above her hip. The former Evil Queen squealed at the unexpected attack.

"Did you just _giggle_?"

"I did no such thing."

Emma raised an eyebrow, devilishly. "You're ticklish?"

"I most certainly am not."

"I can't wait to find out…What time does the kid go to bed, anyway?"

"Stop sulking, dear. You'll get wrinkles."

Emma snorted, thinking the remark sounded like something Cora would have told Regina a billion times. She wisely decided not to ask.

"You know," the blonde started, "this is the Thanksgiving I always wanted. A nice dinner, watching football. Relaxing with family."

"Is that what we are?" Regina turned her face to look up at her partner, wistful. "Family?"

"I would like that. A lot."

Regina sighed, content, and leaned into Emma as much as decorum would allow with their son in the room.

"Me, too."

"Regina?"

"Yes, dear?"

Emma placed her hand on Regina's thigh and began to lightly rub back and forth. This was torture.

"Seriously, when the fuck does our son go to bed?"

XXXX

Across town, The Charmings' first Thanksgiving dinner was winding down to a handful of friends drinking wine and enjoying each other's company. Snow had invited so many people, especially those unattached or without loved ones, she asked Blue if they could host it in the convent's community room.

It was win-win: The sisters got to host a gathering for those who needed a place to celebrate, and The Charmings got to expand their dinner to include everyone they wanted at their holiday meal. Everyone, that is, except the one person Snow longed for most.

The brunette was mulling over the irony off in a corner when Blue spotted her clearly downhearted friend. It was a reversal so stark from Snow's normal, can-do optimism, she felt compelled to see if she could help.

"Are you alright, my friend? You look troubled."

Snow smiled weakly, the happy expression never reaching her eyes. "Oh, it's nothing. I'm fine."

The fairy raised an eyebrow and scoffed. "You can't fool me, I've known you since you were a babe," she chided gently. "What is it? Is it about Emma?"

Like any good lawyer, Blue asked the question already knowing the answer. She had learned from Granny and Ruby – separately, she thought with amusement – that Emma would not be at the dinner. It's a fact that devastated Snow but delighted the Blue Fairy because she knew where The Savior was.

_Regina was a murderous menace in the Enchanted Forest, and since the curse broke, Blue swore she would not allow a repeat performance in this world. She'd be dammed if she had to spend another lifetime protecting her people from two ticking time bombs._

_The fairy knew she couldn't do anything about Rumple, he was far too dark and powerful, plus even if she could get rid of him the decision came with a price she refused to pay. No one was_ that _holy. One would have to go, and with the curse broken and Snow and Emma returned, it was time for Blue to put her plan into action. Regina could not be reformed, Blue decided - judge, jury and executioner. The dark witch had to be eliminated. Permanently._

_Now magic-less thanks to a fortuitous promise to her son, the former Evil Queen would prove to be short work, she thought. Blue just had to find the perfect scheme, and thanks to an old friend, she had._

_After the curse broke, Sidney had been released from the institution, angry and hell-bent on revenge against his former boss for offenses now over two realms. Blue almost laughed at the serendipity. The convent housed the disgraced reporter in their guest shelter. Blue got public kudos for her generosity and kindness, helping to reform the fallen man, as well as a private minion itching to take down his unrequited love._

_She had Sidney follow Regina everywhere to find something she could use against the former Queen. She almost didn't believe it the day Sidney came running into her office, nearly panting with excitement._

"_Mother…the Queen…she…"_

"_What is it?"_

_The man handed over his long-lensed digital camera and pressed the menu button to display images of Regina, Emma and Henry eating ice cream at The Cow. She forwarded one by one until she hit the jackpot – Emma kissing Regina's hands outside her home._

_Blue chuckled. "Thank you, Sidney," she praised. "This will do quite nicely."_

Snow looked like she was about to cry. "Please don't tell anyone," she pleaded quietly. "I asked David to tell everyone Emma was working but she's at Regina's with Henry."

Concern was written all over the fairy's face as she took Snow's hands in her own.

"I hate to lie to my friends, but I couldn't tell them the truth. I know she wants to be with Henry today, I just don't understand why they couldn't be together here. Granny and Ruby know," she sighed, "but I just couldn't admit it to anyone else."

"Oh, my dear," Blue patted Snow's hands kindly. "I know how painful this is for you."

Blue looked Snow in the eyes, then turned away, her face tight.

"What?"

"It's nothing."

"That's not nothing." The defacto-Queen's voice grew suspicious.

"I don't wish to hurt you."

"Withholding information hurts me." Snow's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I don't know how to say this."

"Blue…"

"Come with me." Blue stood and quietly slipped from the room, Snow right behind.

The women sat on a tattered, old couch in her office, Blue reaching for Snow's hands once again.

"Regina is interested in Emma."

"What do you mean?" Snow's voice was pure steel.

"Regina is in love with her."

An ice-cold column of fear attacked Snow's spine, followed by scalding rage.

"_What. Do. You. Mean?_"

Blue went to her desk, opened her drawer and returned with the camera.

"Sidney's been obsessed with Regina since he was released. He's been monitoring her every move, hoping he could find a way to win her heart. I figured as long as he didn't hurt her, it wouldn't be a bad idea to keep an eye on her."

Blue sighed sadly, turned on the camera and pulled up the pictures of Emma, Henry and Regina at the ice cream stand.

"They're just taking Henry out for a treat," Snow noted, letting go of a large breath. "That's hardy lo—"

The brunette stopped, stunned into silence when Blue reached the picture of Emma kissing Regina's hands.

"I'm so sorry."

"But you said…you said Regina was in love with Emma. You never said Emma…"

"I couldn't," she cried, despondent. "I couldn't utter those words to you. I would never hurt you this way, my child, but I think your need to know what is happening with your daughter outweighs my weakness."

"My daughter," Snow echoed, hanging her head in defeat, gutted by an image she could never unsee. "My daughter…and…Regina?"

"I wouldn't have told you if it were just this image, but others have told me they've seen them around town together. Having lunch. At Henry's soccer game. People are worried about their princess, they tell me she is at Regina's house at all hours of the day and night."

Snow lifted her head, eyes haunted, her face even paler than normal. "Blue…Blue, you _have_ to fix this," she begged, tears welling in her eyes. "There must be a spell or fairy dust or something."

"Just like we cannot make people fall in love, neither can we prevent it."

"No! But, Regina's _a woman_._"_ She paused, gutted. _"And she's Regina_." Her anger quickly transformed into despair. "Emma is a princess. She's supposed to marry _a prince_, have children and extend the line. It's her _duty_. If she's with Regina she can't…

"The Evil Queen as Princess Consort? That _would_ be novel," the fairy noted wryly.

"I…I….I can't." Overwhelmed and distraught, Snow paused for a minute, unable to continue, dropping her head to her hands.

"Surely," she implored, "there must be something you can do."

Blue grabbed one of Snow's hands and wrapped her other arm around the woman's shoulder, reassuringly rubbing an arm in support. Her lips turned up at the corners, her face open and guileless: "There may be something I can do."

**TBC**

**Reviews sincerely appreciated!**


End file.
